


Awakenings

by Jeanie205



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Begins at the point the season ended, F/M, Post Season 5 canon story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-07-11 13:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15973007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanie205/pseuds/Jeanie205
Summary: Monty Green has sent them all across the galaxy to the planet with two suns, but Bellamy and Clarke discover that there’s a huge obstacle to making this planet their new home.  Meanwhile, Bellamy’s emotions have been in turmoil ever since he found out that Clarke was still alive.  Now he has to figure out a way to resolve this internal conflict and be true to his own feelings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: this story begins exactly where canon left us at the end of season 5, with the Becho/Bellarke situation unresolved. Part of the story involves Bellamy working that through. Echo will therefore appear, but not as part of a romance. This is definitely a Bellarke story.

Clarke had no idea how long they’d been standing there, gazing down on the planet with two suns. The one that was to become their new home. With Bellamy’s strong arm around her, and his steady heartbeat beneath her ear, she’d lost all track of time as she enjoyed the feeling of profound comfort that she’d been so sure she’d given up forever.

That he held her like this... _that he’d forgiven her at all_... were gifts she didn’t know if she deserved, but she was too weak and too needy not to accept them.

When she felt him stir, Clarke shifted her head to look up at Bellamy and found him staring down at her, his expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the words leaving her on a quiet breath.

“About what?” His voice was a murmur, his soft smile barely there.

There were so many choices that Clarke wondered how she should respond. _That I didn’t trust you? That I left you to die? That because of my fear and loneliness and...and...jealousy -_ she winced inwardly _\- I temporarily lost whatever good sense I had?_

But she knew all that couldn’t be fixed with two words of apology, however much he seemed to be willing to just...let it go. So she finally settled on another choice, a more immediate one.

“About Monty. And Harper. I know how much they meant to you.”

Bellamy shrugged, his smile becoming sad.

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss them both, but I know they lived the life they wanted.  And besides,” he quirked his brow, peering down at her, “they were your friends, too.”

Clarke nodded, acknowledging her friendships with Monty and Harper. Friendships she now regretted she’d been too reserved and to distracted to reclaim in the short time they’d had together before everything went to shit again.

“Yes, but you spent all those years with them on the Ring. I know they’d become,” Clarke’s eyes drifted away from his face, unable to hold his gaze, “your family. All...of them were. _Are_ ,” she corrected herself.

Bellamy reached up to tug gently at her chin until she was once again looking him in the eye.

His voice was gentle, too.

“Clarke, you must know that you are my family, too, you and Madi. You could never be anything less than that.”

She nodded, giving him a small smile. _Family. She supposed she’d have to be satisfied with that._ At least she hadn’t lost him altogether.

“Of course, although I think I must be something like the black sheep right about now. I still don’t know why you aren’t mad as hell. I know damn well Madi would never try to order you not to be angry...”

Bellamy’s lips tugged up into small grin. “She has her ways, your Madi. Ways of making people see things...differently.“

Clarke nodded again. She knew how persuasive her daughter could be.

“But...what did she say to you? I can’t imagine...”

Bellamy’s face softened and for a moment she thought he might repeat whatever magic words Madi had used to get him to forgive her for leaving him to die in Polis. But then he shrugged.  


“She made me see something I hadn’t understood. That’s all.”

She was bewildered. “But...”

Bellamy shook his head gently. “Just leave it, Clarke.”

 _Leave it?_ His voice was quiet but his tone was firm. It was clear Bellamy didn’t want to tell her whatever it was that Madi had said to him.

Which made it a mystery, and Clarke Griffin didn’t like things she couldn’t figure out. Even good things, like Bellamy’s forgiveness. So she might have dug in her heels and pursued it if at that moment she hadn’t heard the small snick of a door opening and a soft throat-clearing behind them.

“Do you...have any questions?”

Jordan Green had apparently just re-entered the bridge. She hadn’t even heard him leave.

Clarke quickly broke away from Bellamy’s embrace, a vague tingle of guilt running up her spine. Although why that should be, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like Jordan cared what she and Bellamy were doing.

“Should we wake all the others now?” Jordan asked when neither of them answered his first question.

“No!”

With that synchronicity of thought that had served them so well as co-leaders, Bellamy and Clarke answered as one, both swiveling to face Jordan.

“I think we need to come with up with a plan before we wake the others,” Bellamy told him. “Did, uh, your dad leave you any other specific instructions?”

But Jordan was already shaking his head. “Nope. Just to wake you two. Play you the video. That you would figure it out.”

Bellamy slanted his eyes at Clarke, smiling ruefully.

“I’m flattered by Monty’s vote of confidence, but I wouldn’t have minded a few hints.”

Clarke returned the look, knowing just how he felt.

She shrugged.

“Maybe he figured it would all depend on what we found when we got here.”

“So what have we found?”

She turned again to gaze at the planet below. “Looks like it could be a viable homeland.”

Then Clarke swept her hand around the room, waving at all the blinking screens that filled each wall from top to bottom. “But I don’t pretend to know what all this telemetry means. It could be flashing danger signals all over the place. This stuff is not exactly in my wheelhouse.”

“Mine, either,” Bellamy agreed. “So I guess that makes knowing what to do first pretty damned obvious.”

He turned toward Jordan, his right brow cocked in query.

“Pretty sure Monty had the, uh, passenger manifest with everyone’s location?”

Jordan nodded. “I know where that is.”

“Good,” Clarke said, as always knowing exactly where Bellamy had been headed “Because we need to find Raven Reyes.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Raven blinked and looked up, her face wreathed in surprise when she saw Clarke and Bellamy peering down at her. That expression was soon replaced by a confused stare when she spotted Jordan.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Jordan grinned. “Just like Dad described you,” he said, clearly delighted.

“Dad?” When Raven swung herself out of the sleep chamber and shifted towards Bellamy for an explanation, Clarke tried very hard not to remember when it had been she whom Raven would look to for details.

Bellamy sighed. “There are a few surprises, Raven, and some of them are going to be hard to swallow.”

By the time Bellamy had given her the abridged version, promising her a look at Monty’s recording later, Raven’s mouth hung open in disbelief.

“Monty and Harper are... are...” She paused, drawing a deep breath, “and this guy is their...”

Raven swung around again to scrutinize Jordan before turning back to the others. “A hundred and twenty-five fucking _years_! And we’re in _what_ star system?”

“Monty called it the Goldilocks system. He spent his whole life figuring out a way to get us here. And the planet looks...livable from up here. But we don’t know how the fuck to understand all the readouts, which is why we knew we had to wake you up next.”

Raven nodded, glancing around to get her bearings, but then she seemed to focus in on Clarke, pedaling back to Bellamy’s last words.

 _”We?_ You mean...you and Clarke? Who the hell put her in charge? And why haven’t you woken...the others up?”

Bellamy ignored her last question.

“Yes, me and Clarke. For now. Those were Monty’s instructions, and anyway,” he shrugged and reminded her gruffly, “that’s how it’s always been.”

“That’s not how it was up on the Ring,” Raven shot back quickly, her expression remaining unconvinced.

Bellamy was quiet for a moment, then he sighed. When he finally spoke, he seemed to weigh every word.

“You’re right, Raven, Clarke wasn’t making decisions for us up on the Ring. But that’s only because we all thought she’d died. Saving us. But instead she survived for six years with only a small kid for company.”

Clarke was dismayed, but not surprised, that Raven didn’t trust her. But even more than that, the last thing she wanted was to become a source of contention between Bellamy and Raven.

She turned hastily to leave.

“Uh, Bellamy, I’ll just go and let you two work this out.”

“The hell you will,” Bellamy insisted quietly, grabbing onto her arm to hold her there next to him. “We’re going to get this settled right now.”

Raven’s expression was puzzled as she studied Bellamy’s face.

“She left you to die, Bellamy.”

Clarke shuddered inwardly as she heard the words, but she knew it was only the bald truth.

“You weren’t there, Raven,” he reminded her.

“I know what... I was told,” Raven insisted.

“Yeah, well maybe you didn’t get the whole story. Maybe there are reasons Clarke did what she did, and maybe I choose to... understand those reasons. And since I’ve decided to... let it go, I was really hoping maybe you could, too.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Bellamy. “You haven’t been...uh... quite so forgiving in the past,” she said finally.

Bellamy shrugged. “Yeah? Well, maybe I’m the Blake who’s finally learned about forgiveness. That sometimes...other things... are more important than holding onto your grievances. And besides,” he added, as though it was the one thing that would surely clinch the argument, “this is Clarke.”

Clarke’s mouth fell open in surprise at his words, but they must have been enough to satisfy Raven. She nodded, her mouth twisting into a wry smile.

“Okay,” she said, glancing between Bellamy and Clarke, “if you can both get past whatever the hell happened between the two of you in Polis, I guess I can do the same. God knows, I really wasn’t looking forward to trying to hold a grudge against the person that saved our asses in the first place.”

Clarke felt her shoulders sag with relief.

“I’m sorry,” she said, eyeing Raven warily, and she could feel the wetness gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I know I put you all in danger.”

Raven shrugged, peering in her direction. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. I mean,” her brow wrinkled as she feigned vague recall, “didn’t I try to steal your kid? And you did come through in the end.” Her smiled widened to a grin. “I thought we were a pretty good team, the way we took care of that asshole, McCreary.”

Clarke felt her own face break into an answering grin, and then she couldn’t seem to stop the tears from falling as she pulled Raven in for a hug.

“We _were_ a good team,” she agreed, her voice choking, feeling herself wrapped in Raven’s embrace. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me, too,” came the soft reply.

When Raven finally pulled away, her eyes darted around the room before settling again on Bellamy.

“I guess I’d better start trying to decode all this shit. And if I’m gonna do that, I’m gonna need Shaw’s help. So I think you better wake him up next.”

Bellamy smirked. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you want me to wake up the pilot?”

“Hey, you want the best team to figure this out? We’re it. And don’t give me that crap, Bellamy. You’re the one in the big mess. And it’s only gonna get messier if you don’t deal with it.”

Clarke looked on, bewildered, as Bellamy flushed. “Yeah,” he said with a nod, his eyes flitting away from Clarke. “I know.”

“Good, because I don’t want it to become my problem. Now bring on the physics.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Shaw smirked. “So they were still using that line a hundred years later?”

Raven and Shaw had been working nearly non-stop for two days, trying to figure out what their next move should be. Jordan had pulled up all Monty’s old files, hoping they might be of some use. Unfortunately, Monty had been able to do little more than speculate, keeping faith with the idea that his calculations were correct and that this new planet he was sending them to could save them all.

But in the end Monty Green had only been able to point them in the right direction. It was now up to the genius and the pilot to figure out how to finish the journey.

“Would it do any good to ask you guys to skip the flirting and head right to the explanations?”

Clarke laughed, certain Bellamy’s testy question had only been half-joking.

“I think I’m supposed to ask for the bad news,” she said, smiling, “but if there really is some good news I’d rather hear that first.”

Bellamy nodded his agreement. “We haven’t had a lot of good news in our, uh, extended lifetimes. So I wouldn’t mind a little myself.”

Raven grinned. “Well, you’re gonna get some now. While there are a ton of differences between the planet below us and Earth, it looks like it could definitely support human life. The air is breathable, the water drinkable. And there’s obviously vegetation on the surface.”

Raven stopped, heaving a sigh.

“But there’s always a _but_ ,” Bellamy said, his expression tense. “Just tell us.”

“Well, it seems that on this planet we are the Mountain Men,” Raven began.  
  
“ _What?”_

“There’s too much radiation on the surface, probably because of the two suns. So with our physiology... we’d all be sick within days and dead within weeks.”

Clarke felt herself tense.

“Except for Clarke and Madi, of course,” Raven continued, eyeing Clarke closely. “They could thrive on this planet just fine.”

“Our nightblood,” Clarke said. She’d known what was coming as soon as Raven had said the word _radiation_.

“Yep. It looks like the only way we can survive on this godforsaken planet that seems to meet our needs in every other way, is if everyone on this ship becomes a nightblood.”

For several seconds the room was so quiet that Clarke could hear the sound of Bellamy’s harsh breathing...and her own beating heart.

They turned to each other with their customary synchronicity, but it was Clarke who spoke.

“I think we’d better wake up Madi.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We move to Bellamy’s point of view as they awaken Madi and try to figure out what they need to do so they can live on this new planet. Bellamy knows he also has other, more personal, issues that he needs to work out, but maybe that’s not going to be so easy.

As he waited for Jordan to enter the keystrokes that would wake the Commander, Bellamy thought about how he never got tired of watching the interplay between Madi and Clarke. The deep well of affection that so clearly lay between them always made him smile.

It seemed to him that Clarke brought the same level of intensity to motherhood - even without the biological connection - that she did to every other aspect of her life. So he could easily understand how she had become overwhelmed by her need to keep Madi safe...and appreciated how incredibly hard it must have been for her to let go of that need.

And yet, despite everything that had happened, Bellamy was not at all put off by that intensity. To him, it only added more depth, another layer, to an already complex woman.

As for Madi herself? Well, she was just an amazing kid. They all pretty much owed their lives to her courage and her resourcefulness.

Clarke had finally come to accept that Madi was exceptional. That her child had a destiny to fulfill that went beyond what might be expected of some other, less extraordinary, child.  But he also knew that to her, Madi would always first and foremost be her beloved daughter.

Bellamy was also pretty certain that _other_ facets of Madi’s character - her loyalty and her capacity for affection, for instance, and maybe even her unbridled curiosity - had come straight out of the Clarke Griffin parental handbook. Although it seemed clear Clarke had been so much more to Madi than just a parent. She’d been her guide and her mentor, responsible for much of what the child had learned about the world since the day they’d first met.

(He used to think that he and Octavia had once had the same sort of mentor relationship. Their circumstances had certainly been curiously similar. Bellamy, too, had been forced to become his sister’s only teacher, every bit of knowledge he gleaned in his own schooling carefully hoarded against the day it could be imparted to Octavia. Whenever she was ready.

But he now understood that he’d been much too young, and that in his youth and inexperience he’d taught her some of the wrong life lessons. And by the time he’d learned the right ones, Octavia hadn’t wanted to listen anything he’d had to say.

It saddened him that he and Octavia had come to such a pass, that their closeness had degenerated into enmity and distrust. He told himself that it was a problem for another day. If it could be fixed at all.)

Bellamy refocused on Madi, smiling as the eager 12-year-old bounded out of the sleep chamber and straight into Clarke’s arms.

Seconds later, she’d pulled away from Clarke and was gazing around the small group, her eyes flicking curiously over Jordan Green. Bellamy saw the exact moment the child morphed into the Commander.

“Clarke? Bellamy? What’s going on? Is the ground safe now? Have we already been asleep for ten years? Where are the others?”

For him, turning to meet Clarke’s eyes was instinctive, and he wondered if she returned his look for the same reason.

Madi’s glance fell between them as she spoke again. “You might as well just tell me.”

XXXXXXXXXX

She took the news better than he might have expected, but then again both parts of her - the Child and the Commander - were apt to make her more resilient than others might have been.

Madi _did_  blink a bit at the length of time they’d been asleep, though, and the Child spoke up then.

“I guess I’m the oldest Commander ever, then. Right, Clarke?”

Clarke smiled. “Yes, I suppose you are. But that’s not really the issue here.”

“No,” Madi sighed, as the proud Child left and the Commander came to the fore. She turned toward Raven. “So you’re sure about this? That everyone who isn’t a nightblood would die on the planet?”

Raven nodded. “We took multiple readings from all over the surface and they all came back the same. But it seems to be the natural state for the planet because we can see that there’s plenty of vegetation and running water. It’s not a wasteland.”

“So everything on this planet evolved naturally at the higher radiation level.”

Bellamy noted that Madi also had a very quick mind.

“Right. So that means that if we want to live down there, we have to adapt to it, because it’s not a temporary condition that might change. And since there don’t really seem to be any other options...”

Madi nodded, and looked thoughtful.

“So the way I see it, we have two problems.”

“Two?” Raven looked puzzled. “I only see the one. How to enhance everyone’s blood...”

But Madi was already shaking her head.

“You don’t understand. There are going to be some people - maybe even a lot of people - who will try to refuse to become nightbloods. Who’ll think it’s blasphemy even to create it artificially, never mind injecting it into themselves..”

Raven’s mouth dropped open. “Madi...you aren’t saying...” Raven paused, uncharacteristically hesitant, before she finally spit out her concern. “Are you saying that you’d object to other people becoming nightbloods?”

Bellamy saw that Clarke was ready to jump into the conversation, but Madi spoke before she had the chance.

“Of course not! Clarke explained to me a long time ago how Becca Pramheda made the first nightblood. That it was always science. And if it can help everyone to have it, then...why wouldn’t I want that? These are _my_ people now and I want them to live.”

Madi paused and turned in his direction.

“But you saw them at the ascension, Bellamy. A lot of them have such strong beliefs. I’m not sure they could... get past those ideas.”

Bellamy nodded. “You’re right, Madi. It’s a reasonable concern, and we’re definitely going to have to address it at some point. But I think... for now... the main question should be...can we even make it happen in the first place?”

His eyes shifted to Raven as he asked the question. “Can we change everyone’s blood so they can live on this planet?”

Clarke spoke up from her spot right next to him. “Now that we have access to Zero-G, you can make the nightblood the way you and Mom tried to back at Becca’s lab, right? I mean, you said that gravity was the only reason why you couldn’t get it to work.”

When Raven frowned, Bellamy’s heart sank. “The thing is...back in Becca’s lab, we had all her equipment and all her notes. But I’ve looked all over this ship and I can’t find any equipment like that. Unless...”

She wrinkled her brow at Jordan, but he shook his head. “Nope, you’ve seen the whole ship.”

Raven sighed. “And I’ve looked through everything Monty cracked open on the Eligius 3 files, but I couldn’t find anything about nightblood. Or any notes at all from Becca.”

Her eyes flicked toward Madi in what looked to Bellamy like a last resort. “Unless that thing in your brain...”

But Madi only looked bewildered. “That’s not how it works, Raven. I can’t call up formulas or ask questions. Last time, Gaia helped me focus when I needed information, but I’m not sure she’d be willing to even try to help with this.”

“I don’t think, even with Gaia...” Clarke spoke up hesitantly, wrapping a reassuring arm around Madi. “I only had that thing in my head for a little while, but the way information is received is more... scattershot. Sometimes it’s just a feeling, an impression, a certainty that tells you to take a specific action. Nothing so straightforward as you’d need, Raven.”

Madi eyed Clarke in surprise. “That’s right! I’d forgotten that you had the flame in your head for a little while.”

Clarke’s smile was rueful. “That was... an emergency. I was never meant to take the flame, Madi. That’s your destiny, not mine. But I don’t think I’ll ever forget what it felt like in my head.”

Raven shrugged. “Whatever. So it doesn’t look like we can do the Zero-G thing, but before I say that definitely, we need to talk to Abby.”

Bellamy and Clarke exchanged another quick look.

“I agree,” she said. “If there’s a way, Mom will know. If not, then we have to move on to... Plan B.”

It was decided to hold off for a few hours, to let those who’d been working for days get some rest and enjoy some of the reconstituted dried rations that Monty had created and vacuum-sealed against the day they would all awaken.

Clarke took her rations to a small low bench in a quiet corner of the room. Bellamy followed along behind her without giving it a single thought.

“She’s quite a girl, your Madi,” he said, taking the seat next to her. “I made so many mistakes with Octavia, but you did such a great job with Madi.”

“That wasn’t me,” Clarke insisted, smiling. “She’s always been so bright. It’s just how she is.”

“Yeah, she’s bright and she’s courageous. But she’s also affectionate and caring, and... I’m pretty sure all that’s on you. And I know she has more understanding of the world than just that narrow grounder viewpoint, and that’s on you, too. That’s why she’s going to be so much more effective than any of the past Commanders.”

“Maybe,” Clarke shrugged, but she was still smiling. “She’s just always been really curious...”

He grinned at her. “I’ve noticed.”

She laughed. “And persuasive. She even convinced you not to hate me.”

“Clarke, I could never hate you.” She had to know that much. _Not that he maybe hadn’t tried. More than once._

She sighed and held his gaze. “Are you ever going to tell me what she said to you?”

 _This again._ Bellamy had been positive she’d dropped it days ago, but he supposed he should have known better. Clarke was nothing if not persistent.

He searched his mind for a way to put her off again, but as she watched him intently he could feel himself flushing. His eyes flicked away from hers and he wondered how the hell he could ever explain to her how much it had hurt him when she’d left him in Polis.

Oh, he’d known she’d be pissed off about Madi taking the flame, had steeled himself to expect it, to deal with it. Figured that when Clarke eventually realized there’d been no other way save her life, she’d understand. Maybe even... forgive.

But for her to just drop him right in the middle of it? Put him in line for the fighting pit? And then just... _leave him like that?_ When he’d crossed so many lines, done... things... he never could have _imagined_ himself doing, just to save her?

The irony had hit him hard as he’d sat in that cold room waiting to fight... and to die. At the very moment he’d been forced to understand exactly how much Clarke meant to him, and in what way he cared for her, he was also forced to acknowledge that she didn’t give a good goddamn about him.

Bellamy hadn’t known he could be so scared, and so angry, and so fucking heartbroken all at the same time. He’d felt like the most pathetic fool who ever lived.

So later, when Madi had told him about the radio calls... he could hardly believe it! Clarke had spoken to him every day for six fucking years!... he’d known immediately that somehow he’d got it all wrong. That some _thing_ had gone very, very wrong between them in Polis. That she cared about him after all.

And in an instant, the protective wall he’d been trying to build around his heartbreak had crumbled, and everything he’d ever felt for Clarke Griffin had come rushing back in.

After that, everything had happened so fast, as they’d tried to figure out how to save themselves, that he’d scarcely had time to acknowledge his feelings, let alone understand them. Or consider what to do about them.

Bellamy sighed and refocused on her face.

“Clarke,” he began, not at all sure what he was going to say to her, but as it turned out he needn’t have worried.

“So...is this an exclusive conversation or can anyone join in?”

He’d been so intent on Clarke that Bellamy had never even heard Raven approach. Her smile was wide as she sat across from them, but Bellamy wasn’t sure it went all the way to her eyes.

“Of course it’s not exclusive,” Clarke answered immediately, but he could swear he saw a slight flush on her cheek. Probably her frustration at being once again thwarted in her quest for information.

“So, what’s up?” he asked, certain that Raven’s appearance had some purpose.

“Yeah, you know, I was thinking,” she said, in that casual way Raven had, where you knew that whatever it was she was about to say wasn’t casual at all.

“Thinking...?”

“That maybe it might be time to wake up some of the other, uh, key people besides Abby. People who might be able to help plan what to do next. And people who might want... might deserve... to know about Monty and Harper.”

Her look was so pointed he could hardly have missed it.

It hit him then, and he felt more stupid than ever. Because whatever it was he’d been trying to figure out affected more than just Clarke and him. There was someone else involved.

Still, he understood that what he’d learned about himself in Polis could not be _un_ learned. Now he just needed to decide what to do about it all.

XXXXXXXXXX

In the end, they decided to awaken not only Abby Griffin but Eric Jackson as well, on the premise that they could use all the medical help they could get. And besides, Jackson had been there in Becca’s lab when they’d been researching the creation of nightblood, so there was always the off-chance that he’d remember something the others had forgotten.

Since Madi had been so certain that turning them all into nightbloods would provoke some controversy, Clarke suggested waking both Indra and Gaia.

“I think it’s better if they understand what we’re up against right from the beginning. We don’t need any more... terrible misunderstandings,” she added, her eyes flicking briefly in Bellamy’s direction.

Bellamy’s gut tightened when Madi suggested awakening both Diyoza and Octavia. He was distressed at how little the idea appealed to him, or how much he distrusted his sister.

“Uh, I’m not sure if that’s wise, Madi,” Clarke began tentatively.

“I’m not afraid of them, Clarke,” the new Commander assured her. “I think they know they are beaten. But having them on our side could be helpful.”

Bellamy jumped in quickly.

“You’re right, Madi. We’ll probably need to wake them before all the others. But their help is mostly going to be... political. Maybe we should have a plan firmly in place first.”

Madi nodded thoughtfully, and he was pretty sure she got his unspoken message: that the former leaders needed to understand right upfront that they weren’t going to be part of the decision-making process.

Bellamy thought it might actually be a relief to them both.

“Anyone else?” Madi asked.

Bellamy shot Raven a quick look before suggesting it might be time to wake the rest of the Ring family. They’d all been part of the decision to go into the sleep chambers, he reminded them, and in any event they deserved to know about Monty and Harper.

Clarke was quick to agree. “Of course,” she nodded, giving him a neutral smile. “I’m sure you’re anxious to see... the others again.”

Bellamy was pretty sure he knew exactly what she was thinking.

And that she’d be wrong.

XXXXXXXXXX

He deliberately woke Echo last, thinking that maybe after the others left the room he’d take the opportunity to talk to her. But when she blinked up at him from the sleep chamber, Bellamy found he hadn’t the foggiest notion how to begin.

_You thought everything might change on the ground and...it turns out maybe you were right after all?_

It seemed like a cruel truth to hit her with under the circumstances. Bellamy decided maybe that conversation could wait.

When Echo leaped out of the chamber and threw her arms around him, he held her tightly, happy, as always, to see her. The love and family and friendship that had grown amongst them all after six years together in that confined space was something he would never take for granted. Especially now that two of them were gone.

But then she moved to kiss him, and he found himself pulling away from her soft kiss before she could deepen it. He knew he was responsible for Echo’s look of confusion and the guilt began to creep up his spine.

Bellamy scrambled for a diversionary tactic but he was not surprised when Echo was too quick for him.

“Is something wrong, Bellamy?”

He smiled, shook his head quickly. “It’s so good to see you, Echo. I’m just... tired. So much has happened and there’s a lot to tell you.”

When she looked expectant, Bellamy diverted in another direction.

“Why don’t you get yourself settled in somewhere? Then come up to the bridge. It’ll be easier to just explain to everyone at once.”

Echo nodded. “I understand. So... where should I go?”

He shrugged. “Wherever you want. It’s a well-equipped ship. Lots of rooms to choose from.”

Her brow wrinkled. “No...I meant...where are you sleeping?”

Bellamy felt his gut clench. God, what a fucking asshole he was! Why the hell hadn’t he anticipated that question?

“Uh, I’m in and out at all times, Echo. You wouldn’t get any rest. Why don’t you, um, share with Raven?”

“I believe Raven would wish to share with the pilot,” she said drily.

“Right. Then maybe Emori?”

Echo stared at him blankly. “She and John Murphy have reconciled, Bellamy. I think I’ll stay out of their way.”

Christ, he was an idiot!

“Well, uh...”

“Never mind,” she nodded. “I’ll find a place.”

When she turned and left, Bellamy uttered a soft sigh of relief, and condemned himself for being a cowardly jackass.

When, he wondered, would it become more hurtful to say nothing at all than to just spit out the unvarnished truth? To admit to her that somehow things _had_ changed?

And would he even recognize that moment?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they wake up their friends and explain about becoming nightbloods, Bellamy finds that not everyone is on board with the plan in exactly the same way.

After they woke the others, Clarke convinced Bellamy that they should play Monty’s recording and let everyone get to know Jordan Green a little before they started in on any explanations about nightblood.

It was no surprise to Bellamy that both Emori and Echo were deeply saddened when they learned that Monty and Harper were long dead. But he was more than a little shocked to see how affected John Murphy was by the news. He covered it up quickly, of course, zeroing in instead on Harper’s comment about _trying out_ all the staterooms.

“Yeah, I always knew Harper really liked to get it on,” he smirked, until a gentle cough from the back of the room reminded him that he was in the presence of Harper’s adult son. Murphy had the grace to blush... and the wit to shut the hell up.

“I’m glad they found some happiness,” Abby offered with a soft smile. “That they had each other for all those years. That they had a family. That was a gift.”

And then she glanced around at the small group until her eyes finally came to rest on her daughter.

“So what else is it that you’re not telling us, Clarke? I understand that we’ve been asleep and traveling in space much longer than any of us could ever have imagined, but we all seem to be... okay. Still, I get the feeling there’s a reason why you and Bellamy have assembled this particular group here.”

Bellamy felt a new admiration for Abby Griffin’s intelligence.

“You’re right, Mom, there is,” Clarke nodded. “We showed everyone Monty’s recording because we wanted you to understand that he spent his whole life trying to find a way save us all. And his solution was to send us to this planet. Raven and Shaw have been working hard for the last few days, trying to determine if it’s a viable home for us.”

“And?” It was Abby who spoke, but he could see the question on all their faces.

“Um, their conclusion is that, well, uh...”

Clarke glanced surreptitiously at Gaia, and Bellamy knew she was choosing her words with care.

But when Clarke hesitated, she was interrupted by the blunt-spoken, ever-impatient Raven.

“Look, as far as we can tell, there’s plenty of food and water, and the air is breathable. But there’s too much radiation because of the two suns. So we can live here just fine and dandy as long as we all become nightbloods.”

The silence that followed Raven’s words was broken by a soft gasp from one corner of the room.

Gaia spoke up quickly, and her distress was very evident to Bellamy.

“But... not everyone is meant to be a _natblida_ ,” she protested in her soft voice. “Only a chosen few are granted this gift. It is up to the will of the gods.”

Bellamy knew how difficult such a proposal must be for someone like Gaia, whose faith was everything to her.

Gaia shifted toward Madi, clearly seeking the Commander’s support for her position.

“Heda, you cannot possibly allow this... this blasphemy!”

Bellamy felt an urge to jump in and help Madi out, because she was, after all, only twelve years old. But a look from Clarke held him back. _Let her try,_ it said.

“Gaia,” Madi began quietly, “I know how... devoted you are, so I understand how all this must seem to you. But wouldn’t you say that lately the gods have spoken to us in new ways? Indra told me that you all once thought the days of the Commander were over, and that that’s why you accepted Octavia as your leader, even though her blood is red. But then I arrived, and you decided she was just holding Wonkru together until I could show up and take the flame.”

She turned from the daughter to the mother. “Isn’t that what you told me, Indra?”

Indra nodded. “She’s right, Gaia.”

“Yes, Mother, she is,” Gaia acknowledged. “But, Heda,” she turned back to Madi, “this is different.”

“Is it? If Clarke hadn’t survived because of her artificial nightblood, if she hadn’t found me, I doubt I ever would have lived long enough to become your Commander. So... wasn’t that the gods using someone who had been _made_ into a nightblood to make sure I survived?“

Gaia hesitated. “I... guess it could be seen that way.”

Madi smiled. “ _I_ see it that way. Clarke saved me, and she became my mother, and she loved me. And that seemed to please the gods despite her not having been born a nightblood. So maybe the nightblood is meant for more than we thought. Maybe it’s meant to save us all.”

Gaia nodded, blinking at this new way of thought. “Maybe so, Heda.”

“And besides,” Madi added when she saw that Gaia seemed to accept her point of view, “what kind of a leader would I be if I let my people die if I know of a way to save them?”

Bellamy was in awe. He knew very well that Madi understood that the nightblood had been created in a lab, that it was not a gift from the gods but from Becca Pramheda. But she’d used none of that information to try to convince Gaia, because she knew it probably wouldn’t have worked. Instead, she’d chosen an argument that Gaia could both understand and accept.

And, hell, what the fuck did Bellamy know, anyway? Maybe Gaia’s gods _had_ brought them all to this one point in time, to this one spot in the universe, so that what remained of humanity could find a safe harbor.

“Well, okay, then,” Raven said from her spot next to the console, “now that that’s been decided, how the hell do we make it happen? Abby,” she turned toward her friend and mentor, “do you still have any of the notes on making nightblood in space? The stuff we found in Becca’s lab?”

Abby shook her head. “Everything I brought into the bunker is long gone.”

“Jackson?” Raven turned toward the more junior doctor. “Any info from Becca’s lab about making nightblood stick in your head?”

“I was mostly doing research,” Jackson reminded her. “You and Abby were working on the nightblood. Isn’t there any information in the databanks of this ship?”

“Nope. We’ve both looked. And if it was in a file somewhere, Shaw would have been able to retrieve it,” she nodded at the man seated next to her. “But he says it’s just not there.”

Raven sighed. “So I guess that means we have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Right,” Clarke nodded briskly. “You can use my bone marrow.”

“And mine,” Madi spoke up quickly.

The reaction was immediate.

“Absolutely not!” Clarke said. “You’re just a child!”

“You must not take such a risk, Heda!” Gaia objected.

“There is no risk, Gaia, and I’m old enough to do this... as Clarke knows very well,” she added, eyeing her mother.

“But there’s no need, Madi! It might take a little longer starting from just one source, but we’ll still get it done eventually...”

There was a soft throat-clearing from the back of the room, and they all turned as Jordan spoke up for the first time.

“I don’t want to alarm anyone, but there is a limit to the rations Dad created and stored for everyone. I don’t think he expected that after you all woke up you’d be staying on the ship for any length of time.”

“So how long have we got?” Bellamy asked, surprised. This was the first he’d heard about an issue with the rations.

Jordan shrugged. “Maybe a few weeks, depending on how soon you wake the rest.”

And then, before Bellamy could even begin to process that unwelcome news, Shaw offered more.

“Yeah, and we have another problem, too.”

“Now what?” As he turned toward the pilot, Bellamy tried to hide the worry that was beginning to gnaw at him.

“Solar flares. Raven and I noticed them right away, but the phenomenon seems to be increasing as we orbit around the planet.” He shrugged. “We can do some maneuvering and try to avoid them, but it feels likes it’s only a matter of time before one hits us. So I’d say... the sooner we get off this crate and down to the planet the better off we’ll be.”

“Well, that settles it then,” Madi said in her most decisive tone. “You’re the one who taught me about exponential math, Clarke. If we start with two donors, you know the whole process will be completed much, much faster.”

But Bellamy had seen that obstinate look on Clarke’s face before.

“If we need more doses to begin with,” she said, “then you can just double the amount you take from me.”

“Would that work as well?” Echo asked matter-of-factly. “Because I do not think we should endanger Heda.”

“Doesn’t matter if it would or it wouldn’t,” Abby said, “because it would be a terrible risk for Clarke and I’m not going to do it.”

“Then I’ll figure out a way to do it on my own.” Clarke said stubbornly.

And that right there was Bellamy’s breaking point. He weighed in without a thought, hoping like hell he came across as persuasive rather than high-handed. But it wasn’t easy, because the fear had already begun to eat away at him.

“Clarke, you don’t need to do this.”

When she turned her set face toward him, he tried his best to remain calm.

“Isn’t it enough that you already sacrificed yourself for us once? I--we just got you back.”

_And I can’t lose you again._

“Clarke, please, Bellamy’s right,” Madi chimed in quickly, grabbing at Clarke’s arm, her small face full of worry. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you. Especially if it was because of me.”

“Clarke, be reasonable,” Abby said, wrapping an arm around her daughter’s slim shoulder.

And maybe it was the combined weight of their entreaties that finally did it. Clarke let out a soft breath and agreed that Madi could share initial donor duties, but only after extracting a promise from Abby that the girl’s health wouldn’t suffer.

Bellamy’s gut unclenched and he let out a quiet breath of relief.

“Good,” Raven shook her head as though to clear away the drama. “Now that everyone’s on board with the process, we need to make a plan. But it’s been a long couple of days, so I vote for everyone getting some sleep. We can start the injections tomorrow.”

“I volunteer to be one of the first,” Emori said, coming forward, tentatively brushing Clarke’s arm in a gesture that surely declared _I trust you._

Bellamy hadn’t been there that day in the lab when Clarke had dosed herself with the nightblood instead of a terrified Emori, but he’d certainly heard about it. So he was touched by Emori’s gesture. And when Clarke’s eyes misted over, and she pulled Emori into a hug, he began to think that all the disparate parts of his family might be able to come together after all.

Clarke sent him a quick smile and then left for the infirmary with Madi and Abby. The others seemed to scatter quickly, perhaps to get the rest that Raven had suggested.

But when Bellamy looked up from the passenger manifest he’d been studying he saw that Echo had lingered.

“Did you need something, Echo?” he asked, hoping that she didn’t want to talk about the sleeping arrangements again.

But he needn’t have worried.

“Bellamy, I am concerned about Heda,” she said without preamble.

“How so? She seems fine to me.”

“She is now, yes, but you must not let her endanger herself like this.”

“Abby didn’t seem to think the normal two doses would be dangerous for her, and she ought to know.”

“But no one can be certain that no harm will come to Heda if she participates,” Echo repeated stubbornly.

Bellamy was beginning to feel a little exasperated.

“Echo, you heard about the rations and the solar flares. We need to get this done as quickly as possible. For everyone’s sake.”

“Yes, of course I heard. Which is why you must allow Wanheda to double her own doses, as she suggested, so as not to endanger Heda.”

Bellamy was staggered. Surely Echo had understood why that wasn’t an option.

“But... you must also have heard Abby say how dangerous that would be for Clarke.”

“But the doctor wasn’t certain it was dangerous, Bellamy, only that it _might_ be, and still she was willing to make the sacrifice! And surely, if something _were_ to happen to Wanheda when she was doing something so... so _noble_ , surely that would count as a good death.”

Bellamy sat in stunned silence, temporarily at a loss for words. Echo had been so calm, so earnest, but her meaning had been so clear.

He struggled to contain his outrage.

“I’m pretty sure Clarke Griffin has already made enough sacrifices in her life,” he said curtly, unable to completely eliminate the harsh note that crept into his voice. “And there’s nothing at all about the prospect of her death that I would ever remotely consider to be _good_.”

He paused, working hard to keep his breathing even and his anger at bay. “I already lost her once and I’m not letting that happen again.”

When Echo said nothing more he took a deep breath and forced himself to look at the situation from her point of view.

“I think I understand you, Echo,” he said carefully. “With your training, your first instinct is to protect the Commander at all costs, and to put her safety above everyone else’s.”

Echo stared at him in silence for a moment, and when she spoke it was no longer about the nightblood.

“For all those years I understood why it was that Octavia was important to you, Bellamy. She is your sister. But now it seems to me that _your_ first instinct is... to protect the life of Clarke Griffin.”

Bellamy sucked in a breath at her unexpected words.

“I try to value all life, Echo, but yes, Clarke’s is...” he found himself struggling for the right words, “particularly important to me. We’ve just... Clarke and I... we’ve been through so much together.”

Echo seemed to consider his words and then she nodded, blank-faced.

“Yes, I remember. I was there as well through much of it. But even though I saw it all, Bellamy, it now seems that I did not... understand it.”

He opened his mouth, but for the life of him he had no idea what to say to her.

When he failed to respond, Echo turned and left, and Bellamy was once again alone.

His sigh was weary as he considered how dismayingly familiar it felt that two people could view the same set of circumstances so very differently.

It had been only four days since he and Clarke had been awakened to find themselves light years across the galaxy and a hundred and twenty-five years into the future.

Only two days since they’d learned that the planet that was to be the hope for humanity required that they make fundamental modifications to their bodies.

And now they had only a couple of weeks to explain, and to persuade, and to alter the body chemistry of more than four hundred souls, most whom were still asleep, still blissfully unaware of what would soon be asked of them.

When the tension settled across Bellamy’s shoulders he knew it was only his muscles tightening with fatigue and worry. But it surely felt more like the weight of the world had taken up residence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a little discussion, they decide to wake a couple of more key individuals.

Before they began “Project Vampire,” as Murphy had predictably dubbed the nightblood transfusions, the group made two decisions, one of which was suggested by Bellamy and the other by Clarke.

“I’ve been thinking,” Bellamy said when they all gathered on the bridge the next morning, “that we should take a few days to get all of us converted to nightbloods _before_ we wake the others. Having bone marrow extracted is going to do a number on our bodies, at least for a while, and I don’t want us to have to deal with everyone on board this ship while we’re in a weakened condition.”

“Do you expect trouble?” Indra asked bluntly.

“I never _expect_ trouble,” Bellamy said, his mouth turning up in a wry smile. “But that never seems to stop it from finding me. Look,” he continued, twisting his head back and forth, catching them all in his glance, “everyone on this ship has been through hell about a dozen times over, and I can’t help thinking a lot of it might have been prevented with some better planning. I just want to make sure we’re all strong enough to stay on top of things so there won’t _be_ any serious trouble.”

Indra nodded. “Agreed.”

“And,” Bellamy added, “it will have the extra advantage of showing them all that becoming a nightblood is nothing to be afraid of. That we’ve all already done it and we’re just fine.”

Clarke saw the others nod, agreeing easily enough, seeing the wisdom of Bellamy’s plan. After all, the initial conversion group would of necessity have to be small anyway, so why not take the precaution of presenting their own conversion as a _fait_ _accompli_?  She thought it was a great idea, typical of the careful planning of the more methodical Bellamy who’d come back from the Ring.

“Good thinking, Bellamy,” she approved, along with the rest of the group, hesitating a moment before offering her own suggestion, which she hoped would meet with the same favorable response. “I also think we’ve come to the point where we need to wake Octavia and Diyoza.”

She saw Bellamy’s face tighten, but Madi just sounded surprised.

“Are you sure, Clarke? You didn’t think that was such a good idea a couple of days ago.”

“I know, Madi. But a couple of days ago we didn’t have a plan... and now we do. Like Bellamy said, they’ll recognize they weren’t included in the planning process.”

Clarke paused, trying to conjure up the perfect words to persuade the others that she was right. “But now they can be part of the solution.”

She caught Indra’s eye.

“I’m sure no one knows Wonkru like Octavia does, Indra. Knows who’s loyal, who can be trusted... and who’s likely to cause trouble.”

“That’s true,” Indra nodded. “And I don’t think Octavia is any threat to Madi, if that’s what you’re worried about, Bellamy,” she added, studying his taut features.

Bellamy sighed. “I don’t know what to think about Octavia these days. Only that she isn’t the same person I left behind before praimfaya. I mean, I know we’ve all changed, but Octavia...”

“No, it’ll be all right,” Madi said confidently, brushing his arm. “Octavia knows her people better than anyone. We could use her help. And she pledged herself to me. She won’t go back on that.”

As Bellamy nodded, his jaw unclenched and Clarke could see his body begin to relax.

“Okay, fine,” Raven interjected. “So we give Octavia a chance to be something besides the crazy cult leader. But... why the hell should we ever trust Diyoza, Clarke? She hasn’t exactly been our buddy.”

“No, I think Clarke’s right,” Shaw broke in quickly, glancing a bit warily at Raven. “If you have a good plan that will work for everyone, Diyoza will be on your side. She also definitely knows the crazy bastards that were on this ship better than anyone. _And_ she’s pretty damned shrewd.”

“Yeah, shrewd enough to feed Abby drugs,” Raven shot back. ”What do _you_ think, Abby?” she asked her onetime mentor.

Abby’s smile was rueful. “She didn’t make me an addict, Raven, she just used my addiction for her own ends. We’ve all done a lot worse things than that. And,” for a moment her expression saddened, and then it became resolute, “I know Marcus thought she was a reasonable person. Maybe even... a good person.”

Clarke winced inwardly as she considered Kane. They’d all done terrible things during those last few weeks on Earth, as they tried to figure out the least awful solutions while dealing with the constant clash of competing priorities. So she knew she had no business holding Kane’s actions against him, nor did she intend to. But his wounds had been massive, and in their effort to save him he’d been the first one they’d put into cryo. And he’d probably be the last one out.

Maybe the nightblood would end up saving Kane’s life. Or maybe not. There really was no way of knowing.

“I think Diyoza is as ruthless as any of the rest of us,” Clarke said candidly. “But she’s also smart and resourceful and could be a real asset. _And_ she has an extra incentive for wanting this new homeland to work out. ”

She saw in their faces that they all recalled Diyoza’s ‘extra incentive’.

“I’ve been a little worried about that baby,” Abby nodded. “Diyoza has been through longterm cryo twice now, and I have no idea how that might have affected her pregnancy. So I’d like to examine her as soon as possible.”

Raven finally shrugged, resigned.

“Yeah, okay, I can see I’m outvoted, but I’m keeping an eye on G. I. Jane,” was her parting shot.

XXXXXXXXXX

To Clarke’s relief, the initial bone marrow harvests from Madi and herself were completed without complication. In fact, Madi recovered more quickly than she did, perhaps owing to her status as a natural-born _natblida_. Or maybe, she mused, it was just the resiliency of youth.

But Clarke didn’t care about the reasons. She was just grateful that all her fears about Madi’s health had come to nothing.

As requested, Clarke had given one of her own two doses to Emori, and the other had gone to Bellamy. There’d been no conversation about this choice; Abby had simply called Bellamy in as soon as the dose was ready. For a split second, Clarke had considered asking why her mother had made such an assumption, but then she realized that she might not want to hear Abby’s answer.

For her part, Madi had chosen to begin with donations to Indra and a highly ambivalent Gaia. And with that, the conversion program was in full swing.

As expected, the donors had needed a day or two to recover their strength after the trauma of the bone narrow extractions. But Clarke had been pleasantly surprised to learn that the newly-minted nightbloods needed only several hours of adjustment time before they could themselves become donors. Which meant that within a very few days the blood of most of the original group had been successfully altered.

Clarke and Bellamy were both fully recovered when she again broached the subject of waking Octavia.

“I know you’re concerned, Bellamy,” she said, approaching him quietly three days after they’d begun the transfusions.

She’d waited until he was alone. Not in conversation with... any of his Ring family, or discussing security arrangements with Indra.

She herself had been busy helping out in the infirmary, and she knew she’d probably end up in there pretty much 24/7 once the mass conversions began. So she wanted to take advantage of this private moment to reassure Bellamy.

He looked up from his paperwork, sighing deeply.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see Octavia. Make sure she’s okay. Or at least I would if she was anything at all like the girl I remembered. Or even like the woman I thought she was becoming. But not this cult leader, not this... Blodreina.”

He shook his head, eyeing Clarke, and she nodded in understanding,

“Yeah, you know she scared the hell out of me, too, Bellamy. Especially with Madi. But I really believe your sister is still in there somewhere. I think we need to give her a chance to find that part of her again.” Clarke shrugged. “And... I think she could still be helpful... either way.”

Bellamy lay down his pencil slowly, his mouth thinning as he rose.

“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Like all the others, Octavia was somewhat disoriented when first awakened. But that didn’t stop her from poking and digging at Bellamy.

“Feel the need for reinforcements, big brother?” she asked drily when she spotted Clarke. “Too scared to wake up the evil sister on your own?”

“Could be something like that,” Bellamy responded, his expression sardonic. “Or maybe I just thought Clarke would be more successful at getting you to listen.”

Octavia frowned. “Listen to what?”

“There’s been a change of plan,” Clarke said quickly, before the siblings could continue their jabfest. “And... we could use your help.”

“ _My_ help.” Octavia grimaced. “Things must have really gone to shit if you’re asking me for help. Madi’s in charge now, isn’t she?” she said, climbing out of the sleep chamber. “Why the hell do you need help from me?”

“Because you know your people better than anyone, Octavia,” Clarke said bluntly. “And we don’t have much time.”

“Time for what?”

As the three of them headed toward the infirmary, Bellamy and Clarke explained the situation.

And Octavia immediately balked.

“What the fuck? You think you’re gonna turn me into a nightblood? That’s not happening! I spent six years making a big fucking deal out of having red blood, and that’s the way it’s gonna stay.”

“Did you understand anything we just told you, O?” Bellamy’s voice rose in exasperation. “If you don’t do this, you’re not going to make it on this new planet. And it’s going to be a very painful death,” he told her flatly.

“And if you won’t convert, how will we ever convince the rest of Wonkru?” Clarke jumped in quickly. She paused before adding, “Octavia, you went through hell to try to save them, and now...what? You’re just going to abandon them?”

Octavia shrugged stubbornly. “They don’t care what I do anymore. They follow Madi. And I know you sure as hell don’t care,” she said, whirling on Bellamy. “You already told me you wished I was dead!”

“I think what I said was that a _part_ of me wished it.” Bellamy’s face twisted in pain. “Maybe the part you condemned to die in that fighting pit. And the only part of _you_ I ever wanted dead was Blodreina.”

By then they both seemed fighting mad, as angry and emotionally distant as Clarke had ever seen them. She thrust herself between them, facing Bellamy.

“Bellamy, why don’t you go back to your paperwork and let me talk to Octavia?”

For a few silent seconds he simply stared at his sister over Clarke’s shoulder, and when his jaw clenched, Clarke thought he might refuse. But then his face relaxed and he heaved a sigh.

“Fuck! Maybe you can talk some sense into her. I can’t remember the last time she listened to anything I had to say.”

Then he was out the door with the catlike grace that defined Bellamy Blake.

Clarke didn’t waste any time.

“Is this some kind of punishment for Bellamy, Octavia?” she asked bluntly. “Some sort of bizarre extended suicide to make him feel like shit when you finally die?”

“ _What?_ No! I just... want to keep my red blood. And he doesn’t give a damn anyway! You heard him. Part of him wishes I would die.”

“Yeah, maybe the part that thought he was going to die in the fighting pit that Blodreina condemned him to,” Clarke sighed. “But not most of him. Not the part that spent every second when we were first on the ground worrying about you, trying to keep you safe.”

“Yeah? And what about the part that poisoned me? I could have died, Clarke, but he didn’t give a shit!”

“Yes, he did! He was worried sick that you wouldn’t wake up! But you’d pushed him to the limit, Octavia, with your war and your worms. And he had to do something to save his family.”

Octavia stilled suddenly and looked at her oddly. “His... family?”

“Yes. I know that must be... hard to hear. But to Bellamy, everyone who was on the Ring with him for all those years became like his family. And you were endangering their lives.”

Octavia’s brows rose, and her sudden smirk surprised Clarke.

“So... this is what Bellamy told you? That that’s why he poisoned me? To save his family?”

Clarke tried to think back to that conversation, the one that had happened a hundred and twenty-five years in the past... or two weeks ago. But she’d been chained up and frantic with worry for Madi, and so many terrible things had happened since. She distinctly remembered Bellamy’s guilt over Octavia, how she’d had to reassure him. But as to what drove him?

“I... believe he said that. Or maybe... I said I understood about the terrible things we sometimes have to do for family and he... didn’t disagree.” She shook her head. “What difference does it make now?”

But Octavia’s smirk had morphed into a smile and then into a belly laugh. Clarke was startled when Octavia suddenly threw herself onto a chair and began to remove her jacket.

“Go ahead,” she said, still chuckling. “Make my blood black.”

Clarke was confused, but not enough to press her luck, and she quickly reached into the refrigerator for the most recent dose of bone marrow.

“What changed your mind?” she couldn’t help asking, as soon as she’d finished Octavia’s injection.

When Octavia’s smile turned sardonic, she looked so much like Bellamy that Clarke drew in a quick breath.

“My brother’s life,” Octavia announced with a gleeful smirk, “is so completely fucked. I’ve decided I don’t want to die until I see how he squirms his way out of it.”

_What the hell?_

Clarke found it hard to imagine some projected discomfort in Bellamy’s life could possibly be the real reason for Octavia’s sudden about-face. She was sure that was just some kind of crazy excuse. Something Octavia could tell herself to justify her change of mind.

Not that it mattered. Octavia would live, and Bellamy would be tremendously relieved. And for both of those things Clarke was very grateful.

XXXXXXXXXX

Octavia had barely left when Abby appeared with Diyoza.

“Hey, Clarke,” Diyoza said nonchalantly, just like she hadn’t shock-collared Clarke a few weeks back, or Clarke hadn’t threatened to murder the woman’s unborn baby.

“Colonel Diyoza,” Clarke nodded matter-of-factly. “Have a nice nap?”

Diyoza shrugged. “I’ll know better after Abby examines me.”

Her voice was calm, but Clarke was sure there was real worry behind the words.

Ten minutes later, Abby ripped off the sterile gloves and pronounced Diyoza’s baby healthy.

“I can’t say for sure how your two stints in cryosleep may have affected the gestation process,” she said honestly. “But if there’s anything wrong, it’s not showing up on any of the monitors right at the moment.”

Abby yawned suddenly, and Clarke could see the fatigue in her mother’s face.

“Why don’t you get some rest while you can, Mom? Pretty soon we’ll both be doing this all day long, but for now...I can handle the colonel’s injection.”

Abby smiled and nodded her gratitude, and was quickly out the door leaving Clarke and Diyoza alone.

“So... do you have any questions about this?” Clarke asked, as she readied the dose. “Or did my mother answer them all?”

Diyoza shrugged. “I always just... took my shots before a mission. Never asked what they were for. Figured I’d just... do the same.”

“Well... this is a little different. We’re altering your blood.”

“Yeah, I got that. Didn’t sound like there was much of a choice. Although...fuck!” Diyoza cursed softly. “I’d love to know what the hell this stuff is going to do to my baby,”

Clarke felt some sympathy for the woman. First, two long stretches in cryo and now this. It had to be the longest and most dangerous pregnancy in history.

But there was nothing to be done.

“We honestly don’t know if the nightblood will harm your baby, but what we do know is if you don’t convert your blood, you’ll die. And that means death for the baby, too. But you won’t have to be a donor for anyone else, Colonel. That should at least lessen the trauma to your body.”

Diyoza nodded, rolling up her sleeve and offering her arm.

“You know, Clarke, I think we’ve tried to kill each other enough times now that we can be on a first-name basis. Feel free to call me Charmaine.”

Clarke smiled drily at the woman’s audacity. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I assume you know I never really wanted to kill you in the first place. But you did ambush one of my men.”

Clarke opened her mouth...whether to defend her actions or berate her own stupidity, she wasn’t sure... but Diyoza waved away whatever she might have been going to say.

“Yeah, I know we landed in your backyard and threatened your kid, but it just doesn’t look good to let your crew get shot without punishing someone. Besides,” she shrugged, “I needed information and you weren’t giving it up.”

Clarke handed the woman some gauze to press against the injection site.

“I was telling you everything I knew... Charmaine. I can’t help it if you didn’t believe me.”

“Yeah? So your boyfriend just showed up out of the blue to rescue you? That was just some kind of big surprise?”

Clarke felt herself flushing. “It was a bigger surprise than you can possibly imagine. And Bellamy... isn’t my boyfriend.”

Diyoza looked taken aback. “Not your boyfriend? This guy faces down a well-armed cadre to free you, armed only with a fucking _coffee mug?_ But he’s _... not your boyfriend?”_

Her voice was laced with disbelief.

Clarke shook her head, too busy with the medical equipment to meet Diyoza’s eye. “No. In fact, he’s... with someone else.”

“Wait a minute. The man who appeared out of nowhere and threatened to kill almost 300 of my men if I didn’t release you — all the while staring at you like you were some kind of fucking miracle — that guy has another girlfriend?”

“That’s right,” she reiterated, expelling a sharp breath. She risked a side glance at the bewildered Diyoza, hoping the woman would leave and they could end this painful conversation.

But Diyoza just lay back on the cot, her pregnancy having rendered her weaker and drowsier than some of the other new nightbloods.

“Okay,” she nodded. “I believe you. And I’m already feeling sorry for this poor unlucky woman.”

“Diyoza — uh, Charmaine...” Clarke felt her flush deepening, and she was torn between anguish and exasperation.

“Give it up, Clarke,” Diyoza said, just as she was dropping off. “I know what I saw.”

But Clarke remembered that moment, too, and what she thought she’d seen in Bellamy’s face.

And how later she’d turned out to have been very, very wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time to decide how to wake up everyone aboard the Eligius - and time for Bellamy to convince them all to go along with the plan.

Bellamy thought that once the nightblood project was in progress there’d be nothing left to debate, but as it turned out he was dead wrong.

“So when are you planning to wake the rest of them?” Abby asked as they all shared rations in the mess hall the morning after they’d converted Octavia and Diyoza. “I’ve still got several doses on hand, and I think we should get started as soon as possible. Even with the quick recovery period, it’s going to be a massive undertaking.”

Bellamy’s head shifted slightly and he automatically locked eyes with Clarke. They’d been so tired the night before they’d only had time to discuss it briefly, but they’d come to the same conclusion.

He opened his mouth to respond to Abby, but Gaia beat him to it.

“You _must_ wake the followers of the flame first, Heda,” she urged Madi. “So that they can be made to understand why this... sacrilege is necessary.”

Murphy guffawed loudly. “You think the first thing we should do is wake up a whole bunch of people who’re gonna hate what we’re doing? Yeah, _great_ _thinking_.”

“John!”

Murphy side-eyed the woman next to him. “Sorry, Emori, but that’s a really stupid idea. I had some dealings with some of these, uh, _followers_ back in Polis, and it’d be nuts to let them wander around here like they own the place.”

“Then what would you suggest, John Murphy? What is your plan?” Gaia’s normally soft voice had become strident.

Murphy shrugged. “Not my responsibility. I only know when I hear a crap idea.”

Bellamy couldn’t help his exasperated sigh. “That isn’t the plan, anyway, Murphy, so maybe you can stop insulting Gaia.”

“Then what is your plan, Bellamy?” Gaia’s question was sharp.

“Clarke and I...” he paused, shooting her a quick look and receiving a nod in return, “we think it would be best if everyone was woken up more or less at once. We don’t want any one group to feel they’re the last to know what’s going on. And besides, that way we only have to go through the explanations once.”

At the other end of the room, Diyoza suddenly cleared her throat. “Look, I know I have no say in what’s going to happen here, but I’m assuming you woke me up early for a reason. So I’m going tell you what I think. And it’s that you’ll have mass chaos if you go forward with that plan. There was a reason we took the shuttle to Earth with only one cadre of fighters.”

“And look where that got you!” Bellamy couldn’t help smirking as he reminded her.

Diyoza huffed out a small laugh. “Point taken, Bellamy. But my opinion still stands. You can’t wake them all at once without some kind of controls in place. That’s just asking for trouble.”

“Yeah?” Murphy broke in again, whirling around to face her, “and who should be in control? A bunch of your head-case prisoners? Or maybe we should let all those cheery guards from Polis take charge!”

They were soon all talking over each other, all their fears and objections and requirements battling it out in increasing crescendo.

Until Echo rose from her seat, her voice snapping like a whip.

“This is all a waste of time,” she said. “There’s no need to wake them up at all!”

“What the hell does that mean?” Octavia bit out her question in the sudden silence. “I know I’m the big bad wolf around here, but I’m not the one suggesting we just leave the rest of them in dreamland.”

“Not leave them permanently asleep,” Echo clarified. “We can wake them up little by little afterwards.”

“Afterwards?” Bellamy frowned in confusion. “After what?”

“After they’ve all had the nightblood injections. Then there’ll be no need for meetings, or explanations, and it won’t matter what order we wake them in, just...”

It was all so matter-of-fact that Bellamy couldn’t quite take in what she was suggesting.

Clarke interrupted quietly but deliberately. “Wait a minute, Echo. Are you suggesting we turn them all into nightbloods... without their knowledge?”

“It is the most efficient and sensible solution,” Echo insisted. “They have no real choice so why bother pretending they do? You must see that, Heda.”

Echo appealed to Madi, even though it was Clarke who’d questioned her proposal.

Bellamy saw the obvious dismay on Clarke’s face, and waited for her to continue the debate. When she hesitated, catching his eye instead, he got the message. It was up to him. Echo was his family and it would be his job to set her straight.

He blinked quickly in Clarke’s direction and then broke in before Madi could reply.

“We can’t do that, Echo. No matter how... efficient... it might be. We can’t alter people’s bodies so fundamentally without telling them about it.”

Echo turned to him, surprised. “I don’t understand, Bellamy. This would be so much easier. No disagreement.”

“No _disagreement_ , Echo, no. But what about their _resentment_ when they wake up and find out what’s happened to them? Even the ones who’d’ve had no objection would be justifiably angry.”

He found it hard to believe she didn’t understand this.

“And besides. Monty...” Bellamy paused for a moment, his eyes closing briefly as he felt the sadness wash over him once more, “Monty wanted us to be the good guys. To do better. And I’m determined to try. So we’re not gonna start out by essentially violating people’s bodies. They have to make the choice for themselves.”

“And if they say _no_?” Echo persisted stubbornly. “What then?”

“Then,” he sighed as he forced himself to consider the possibility, “we honor that choice.”

“But... they will die.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “And we’ll have to let them.”

Echo frowned, her back becoming rigid as she turned towards Madi a second time.

“Heda? Is this what the commanders are telling you to do?”

Madi hesitated for an instant, but when she spoke Bellamy could hear her determination.

“This is a new place and a new age of commanders, Echo,” she said quietly. “What worked before... won’t always work now. And,” her eyes flicked quickly toward Clarke and then she nodded at him, “I trust Bellamy’s judgment. If he and Clarke think this is the best way, then that’s how we’ll do it.”

Bellamy was relieved when he glanced around the group and saw the many quick nods of agreement. They hadn’t had a chance to talk to Madi that morning so he felt gratified that she was in their corner. And so, it seemed, were the others.

When Echo took her seat again, every line of her body told him that she resented the rebuff. But that was something he’d have to deal with later.

“Thank you, Madi,” he said. “We’ll try not to let you down.”

Bellamy looked across the room, eyeing Diyoza and Octavia.

“You’re right, Colonel. We had given some thought to... control. What we... what Clarke and I thought might work - despite Murphy’s opinion - would be to wake several trusted members from each group to act as... security. The key being... _trusted_. So that’s where you both come in. You know who’ll be most likely to go along with the nightblood conversion without fuss... and can also be relied on to keep order without help.”

“Without help?” Diyoza asked.

Bellamy nodded. “They won’t have weapons. So I suggest you pick people who are respected rather than feared. And who know what the hell they’re doing.”

XXXXXXXXXX

He wasn’t really surprised to find that Miller was Octavia’s top choice, and the former Wonkru general was woken immediately. They were wary of each other at first, he and Miller, but Bellamy figured that wasn’t so strange considering everything that had gone down in Polis.

Miller didn’t apologize and Bellamy hadn’t expected him to. He understood how in a desperate situation, it might feel impossible to do anything other than follow your leader, however flawed.

Jackson was of course thrilled to be reunited with Miller, but Bellamy could give them only a little private time together before he pulled Miller aside.

“Jackson’s explained it all?”

Miller nodded.

“Good. Keeping order is going to be tricky while we’re doing the conversions. We’ve woken a few of your guys and few from the Eligius to maintain control, but someone needs to be in charge. I’d feel... safer... if it was you.”

Bellamy watched the brief smile bloom and then fade on Miller’s face before he nodded again.

“We’ll really be unarmed?” Miller’s brows rose as though he hadn’t quite believed it.

“No guns,” Bellamy confirmed. “Or swords. Or any kind of heavy weapons. Maybe... a small concealed knife, but _only_ for emergencies. And only given to people you can personally vouch for.”

The smile reappeared, a little wider this time. And remained a little longer.

“Does that mean that you’re... vouching for me?”

Bellamy shrugged, his lips twisting into a wry smile.

“I’d like to, Miller. God knows, the list of people I trust is pretty short right now. I’d like to put you back on it.”

“I understand. I won’t let you down.”

“Good,” Bellamy said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just try to remember that you’re half-guard... half-shepherd. They’re bound to be confused and fearful. We don’t need to make it worse.”

Although he wasn’t sure he’d have bet on their judgment, the men and women Diyoza and Octavia had chosen turned out to be... satisfactory. So was his choice of Miller to lead them. Three days later, after conversion and training of the small cadre of guards - and only nine days after he and Clarke had woken up to find themselves in an entirely new star system - they began the mass awakening.

Bellamy was absolutely convinced it was essential they all be brought up to speed as quickly as possible. So the newly-awakened passengers were ushered directly into the auditorium, the only room on the ship large enough to accommodate them all at once.

While the others were filing in, Bellamy, Clarke, and Madi were meeting in a small anteroom to decide exactly how to proceed.

“These are your people now, Madi,” Bellamy encouraged. “You should be the one to explain what’s happening.”

But Madi disagreed.

“I’ve only been Commander for a couple of weeks, Bellamy. Even with the other commanders helping me, I don’t think I’m ready for something like this. I... couldn’t find the words. One of you needs to do it.”

Bellamy turned to Clarke, but she shook her head with a quiet smile.

“I’m the one who started a war with the Eligius, Bellamy, remember? From which you had to rescue me. Then I stole Madi away just as she’d taken the flame, so I’m not a exactly Wonkru favorite.”

Her smile became rueful. “I’ll be lucky if they all don’t throw things at me.”

Bellamy sighed, knowing exactly where this was heading.

“You, on the other hand,” Clarke’s smile softened, “not only found the new Commander who saved Wonkru, you convinced her to break the cycle and let the Eligius prisoners live.”

Bellamy laughed quietly. “Stop making me sound like some damned hero, Clarke. I just did what I had to do.”

“But that’s just it, Bellamy,” and then the smile was gone and she was gazing at him earnestly. “While everyone else, including me, was busy trying to save only whoever was important to them, you were thinking of... everyone. Keeping them all... right here.”

When Clarke lifted her hand and placed it over his heart, Bellamy suddenly found it hard to breathe. His mind traveled back to the last time she’d touched him in that very same way. One of the worst days of his life.

The day he’d lost her. Forever, he’d thought.

But this time would be different.

He grabbed onto her hand, trapping it within his own. No way was he ever letting Clarke Griffin out of his sight again. Especially... not when she looking at him like that.

As they stood there staring at each other, the rest of the world slowly receded from Bellamy’s mind. So it wasn’t until he heard Madi’s gentle cough that he remembered they weren’t alone in that room.

Then Clarke was flushing and wrenching her hand from his. Moving away quickly. Looking as though she’d just remembered something.

He was pretty sure he knew what it was.

Bellamy struggled to reorient himself to the task at hand.

“Okay,” he told Madi, bowing to the inevitable. “You say a few words first and I’ll do the explanations. And take the crap.”

Madi grinned at them both, her eyes glinting. “Sounds like a plan.”

The three of them entered the auditorium, moving to the front of the stage, while the others in the planning group stood behind them in a loose semi-circle. As he watched the seats fill with four hundred refugees from a planet destroyed by war and stupidity, Bellamy hoped he’d be equal to the task. If he couldn’t convince them in a way that made them feel hopeful, he wasn’t optimistic about their longterm chances.

As soon as they were all seated, a strange quiet settled over the room. Then Madi stepped forward to greet her people, and though she was young and small, somehow her voice carried across that large space.

“I’m happy to see you all, alive and well,” Madi began. “The cryo sleep worked and we’re all safe. We made it. Pretty soon we’re going to be able to leave this ship and go back to the ground. But... not the ground you expected.”

She turned to Bellamy.

“This is Bellamy Blake. You may remember him because he saved a lot of us back on Earth. I’m going to let him tell you the rest.”

Bellamy nodded to Madi, moving slightly forward as he looked out over the sea of faces. Finding a few he remembered from Arkadia, or Polis. But mostly they were strangers, former enemies banded together for this new adventure. He supposed they could manage to build a community, to survive, even if some of them... a few of them... chose to die. But that was not what he wanted.

Bellamy Blake wanted to save them all.

He cleared his throat, deliberately pitching his voice to be deep and persuasive... and crossed his fingers.

“As the Commander told you, we’re all alive and well, and we’re going to stay that way. Right now, this ship is orbiting a planet, a green and inviting planet, and pretty soon we’re going to be able to go to the ground and make a home there.

“But that planet... is not Earth.”

As he’d expected, that announcement brought the first murmurs of surprise. Of dismay. Bellamy continued quickly before the murmurings could blossom into panic.

“Two of our group, Monty Green and Harper MacIntyre, never went into cryo at all. Instead, they remained awake to monitor Earth’s recovery from the devastation unleashed on it by the bomb. But after just a few years, Monty realized that Earth... wasn’t ever going to recover.”

No murmurs now, just dead silence as they absorbed the shock of that.

“So Monty spent years - a lifetime, really - trying to find us somewhere to land. Somewhere... safe. And finally he found this place, this planet, and he sent us here.”

Bellamy shrugged and gave them a small crooked smile. “I’m not sure this planet even has a name, so let’s call it... Salvation.”

 _Why_ _not?_ _It_ _was_ _what_ _he’d_ _been_ _calling_ _it_ _in_ _his_ _head_ , _anyway_.

“But Salvation isn’t in our solar system, and it’s taken us a long time to get here. Instead of the ten years in cryo that we thought it would take for the Earth to recover, we’ve all been asleep for... a hundred and twenty-five years.”

This time the gasps and mutterings were louder, and he could see the doubt in their faces as they shifted in their seats.

“So how do you know all this?”

The question was shouted from the the back of the room. It was one he’d expected.

Bellamy nodded. “A fair question. Monty left us a recording that he made over his lifetime. He also put his son Jordan into cryo, to help us carry out his survival plan”

Bellamy cocked his head at Jordan, who waved to the crowd from the side of the stage.

“Jordan had instructions to wake Clarke Griffin and myself when we finally arrived here after our long journey.”

He smiled briefly at Clarke, and she gave him an encouraging smile in return.

“So that’s it?” The strident voice came again, reclaiming his attention. “Instructions were left to waken you and Wan... and Clarke Griffin? And now you’re making a plan with Heda for us to land on this... unknown planet?”

Bellamy sighed. If only it were that simple.

“Not... exactly. Our science experts have confirmed that the air on the planet is breathable and there is water and vegetation. There may even be animal life, but we can’t be sure. So in many ways, this planet... our Salvation... is very much like Earth.”

He let his eyes wander over the wary refugees, trying to capture them all with a single glance. _Please_ _believe_ _me_ , he prayed silently. _I_ _only_ _want_ _to_ _help_ _you_.

Bellamy knew he was nearing the moment of truth.

“But this planet is in a system that has two suns, so it has a much higher radiation level than Earth did. One that humans can’t normally survive.”

A woman’s voice this time. Thin. Fearful. Exhausted.

“Then it’s just... praimfaya all over again.”

“No!” Bellamy assured them quickly. “The radiation level is natural to the planet, not harmful. It can still provide us with everything we need. We’re the ones that need to change, to adapt to our new surroundings.”

“And how the fuck do we do that?” The first voice again, but this time its owner, a burly grounder, rose from his seat to toss his challenge across the large auditorium.

And there it was.

He took a breath.

“We do it by all of us becoming nightbloods,” Bellamy told them, his voice crisp with certainty. “The nightblood will protect us from the radiation.”

A few seconds of silence... and then they were all shouting at once.

“That’s impossible!” “Are you trying to kill us!”

Bellamy struggled to speak over the hubbub, and finally Madi stepped forward again.

“It isn’t impossible,” she assured them, “and it won’t kill you.”

A woman rose then, tall and strong-looking, and from the expression on her face Bellamy thought she would be equally strong in her convictions.

“ _Fleimkepa_ ,” she said, addressing Gaia directly. “I am Miriam. You must remember me. We have prayed together often. Our new commander is young and... inexperienced. She fought valiantly in the war, and led us to victory, but perhaps she does not understand the faith as well as she might.” She paused. “Surely you have explained to her that those who are not born to it cannot become nightbloods.”

“Of course I remember you, Miriam,” Gaia answered with a quiet smile. “And I understand, because at first I felt just as you do. But this ship can only support us for a short time. If we don’t do this, we’ll never be able to live on that planet. And the human race will die. I... could not see that as a good thing, Miriam. I’m... sorry.”

“I cannot believe your faith is so weak, _Fleimkepa_.” Miriam’s voice was chiding in her disappointment. “I refuse take part in this outrage.”

“No one will force this on you, Miriam,” Bellamy jumped in quickly to assure her, to assure them all. “It has to be _your_ _choice_. But this ship will eventually land, and the rations _will_ run out. If you don’t become nightbloods, you _will_ die. Of starvation on board ship or from radiation sickness on the planet.”

As he spoke, he gazed around the room, catching as many eyes as he could, trying to convince them all by the sheer force of his will.

The burly grounder in the back had finally sat, and he seemed to be considering Bellamy’s words.

But not so Miriam, still standing, nor the like-minded half-dozen who huddled around her.

“It does not matter what you say,” she said finally, still firm in her conviction. “I don’t know what plan you have made to commit such a sacrilege, but I do know that it will not work. The gods will never allow it to happen.”

She took her seat then, only to have the burly grounder rise again.

“Is she right, Bellamy Blake? Why would you tell us these things if the gods will make them impossible?”

Bellamy turned to see if either Madi or Gaia wanted to field this question, since it seemed to him to be one of faith. But they both nodded to him, and he shrugged.

So be it.

“I don’t know anything about the will of the gods,” he said firmly. “Those kinds of questions are for others to answer. But what I can tell you is that every single person on this stage has already become a nightblood, protected and ready for this new life. We’re just waiting for the rest of you to join us.”

He heard a few gasps and saw the looks of surprise on many faces. But he saw also something akin to hope.

Bellamy began to breathe more easily. _Maybe_ _it_ _was_ _going_ _to_ _be_ _okay_ _after_ _all_.

The burly man nodded, seemingly satisfied, then shouted across the room. “So what do you have to say to that, Miriam?”

The woman rose again, her face ashen as she studied Bellamy and all those who stood behind him.

“I say that you have all cursed yourselves,” she said harshly. “And that anyone who commits this sacrilege will be equally cursed. This planet will not be your salvation because it is cursed, too.”

Bellamy thought she might have more to say, but apparently she felt that was enough. She sat abruptly, and seemed to shrink into herself, as though the laying of that curse had expended every ounce of her energy.

Without conscious thought, Bellamy turned towards Clarke, and when their eyes met, her lips turned up in a wry smile. And he could swear he knew exactly what she was thinking.

 _Cursed? Was that all the woman had?_ After all they’d been through, he figured they could happily live with being cursed.

It wasn’t until much later that he learned that wasn’t all Miriam had had after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is overwhelmed with responsibility, but he may be using his busy days to avoid straightening out his personal life. Or at least that’s what Raven thinks.

Over the next couple of weeks, Bellamy found himself nearly overwhelmed by activity and responsibility.

Sure, he had some leadership experience, but he soon learned this was _nothing_ like the Ring. It wasn’t seven people, all more or less in accord, all tightly focused on the same objective: to survive and return to Earth.

This was utterly different.

Instead, it was four hundred castaways from a dying planet, fearful, wary, their bodies in the process of being fundamentally altered so they could settle into a homeland light years away from everything that was familiar. When all along they’d thought they’d be going home.

Bellamy found that the only way he could even begin to accomplish all that was necessary was to ignore the magnitude of what they were attempting, and simply focus on the task at hand. Whatever that happened to be.

It was Madi who was the Commander, of course, the ostensible leader of this ragtag band of refugees. But despite the AI planted in her brain - not to mention her own stores of courage and intelligence - she was still just a 12-year-old girl with only limited experience of even her own world. Madi had great instincts, but no practice in leadership. And certainly nothing like the administrative experience required in the circumstances.

Clarke would have been happy to help, but she was down in the infirmary with Abby and Jackson and anyone else with any degree of medical skill - like Niylah - who could be pressed into service. They were ten days into it now, and for the moment, the nightblood conversion was going well. But with over 400 souls aboard the Eligius 4, it was still a monumental task.

He’d barely seen Clarke for days except for a quick daily update on the conversion project, and then she was off again to the infirmary.

So with Clarke and Abby in medical, Kane still in cryo, and almost everyone else with any leadership experience either dead or deposed, it fell to Bellamy to manage the rest.

There were the rations, for instance. Jordan had said there was enough for a few weeks but their supply was dwindling fast. And Bellamy knew they couldn’t deplete their stores entirely. They’d have to save a certain amount to bring with them to the ground, since they had no idea when - or even if - anything edible would be found on this new planet.

So he knew very well that before long he’d probably have to cut the rations. Of course, it wasn’t like they hadn’t all experienced strict food rationing for prolonged periods many times in their lives. He just hoped to god this would be the _last_ time. That they would soon find edible plants and a way to farm them.

But that was a problem for later.

Right now, there were the interviews.

Madi explained to her people that she wanted to meet them all personally, all the better to lead them. But that was only partly true. Bellamy, with an important assist from Indra, was bent on assessing each member of the group. When they finally landed, it would pay to know who should be tasked with finding and/or growing food, who with building the new settlement and any necessary fortifications... and who with guarding it all.

Diyoza and Octavia provided background. Diyoza shrewdly, Octavia glibly.

“Well, here’s a good candidate if you need someone killed with no muss and no fuss,” she said, as they sat in the small meeting room waiting for the the former Wonkru warrior who was next on the interview list. “I’d definitely recommend Harno,” she added, her voice dry as dust. “He made it through the fighting pit at least four times, and I was disappointed every time because he was such a fucking dangerous pain in the ass.”

Bellamy sighed, and had opened his mouth to say he’d keep that in mind, when he looked up and found to his surprise that the man who appeared in the doorway was none other than the burly questioning grounder from the auditorium meeting.

“Harno?” Bellamy asked, keeping his tone neutral.

The man nodded and sat. “Yes, Bellamy Blake.” The response was almost deferential. “How can I be of service?”

Bellamy’s surprise increased. By now, he was pretty familiar with grounder behavior, and he wondered what he’d done to earn this man’s esteem.

“Nothing at the moment, Harno. Heda is meeting with everyone individually, getting to know them. I’m... mostly interested in learning whether you’d be better at planting the food in our new home, or guarding it all once it’s grown.”

Harno laughed, revealing a surprisingly healthy row of strong white teeth.

“I’m definitely not a farmer... as Blodreina can tell you,” he said, cocking a brow at Octavia, seated behind Bellamy. “But if others do the hard work of growing food, then I would guard it with my life.”

Bellamy nodded. “That’s good to hear. We’re all going to have to be committed to our new life here. The settlement. And... each other.”

Harno’s swift nod told Bellamy the man understood. He sighed inwardly, realizing that there must be a lot of dangerous assholes who’d made it out of the bunker. Hoping that like Harno they’d all understand the need to pull together if they were going to survive.

Madi chatted with the man for a few moments and then asked carefully, “Have you had your shot yet, Harno?”

“Yes, Heda,” Harno bowed his head respectfully in her direction, before turning back to Bellamy.

“It was as you told us - nothing to fear. Then I passed my blood on to help the others.“

Harno paused, and Bellamy waited patiently when the man’s expression signaled he had more to say.

“Whatever task you give me, I will do it. You opened the bunker, Bellamy Blake kom Skaikru. Then you found our hew Heda who led us to victory. Now you’ve brought us to this place to make a life. And... you did not lie about the nightblood. So anything you need of me, or any of my clan, you have only to ask.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened as he listened to this litany of his supposed accomplishments. He opened his mouth to protest that he had done none of those things on his own. Indeed, some of them he hadn’t done at all!

But before he could think exactly how to respond, the man had risen, bowed in his direction and was out the door.

There was a moment of silence before Octavia began to cackle.

“Well, well, _hero_ _Bellamy_. Don’t let it go to your head, big brother. Let me tell you, hero-worship cuts both ways.”

 _Christ!_ _That_ _was_ _all_ _he_ _needed_.

Somehow, the idea of being anyone’s hero - let alone everyone’s - scared the shit out of him.

He glanced over to find an amused Madi.

“You’ll always be my hero, Bellamy,” she said with a smile.

Indra sighed impatiently. “Who’s next on the list?” she said brusquely.

When that day’s quota of interviews was over, Bellamy wandered to the bridge for his never-ending conversation with Raven about the logistics and challenges of actually landing on the planet.

As far as he could tell, every day it was the same discussion, with Bellamy carefully explaining that they weren’t yet ready, that at least another several days would be required for the nightblood conversions. And Raven countering with dire talk of solar flares and orbital angles and a host of other science-y bullshit that Bellamy didn’t even pretend to understand.

Usually Shaw met with them, too, but today he was doing physical inspections of some of the key pieces of equipment they’d need to make the landing. _Better_ _safe_ _than_ _sorry_ , Bellamy had heard him tell Raven the day before. Shaw didn’t want to just trust in the readout. He wanted to see with his own eyes that everything was in working order for the ship’s first landing in more than twelve decades.

So it was just Bellamy and Raven on the bridge that day when Miller arrived for a security update. Bellamy generally got these first thing every morning, so for Miller to arrive mid-afternoon meant there’d been... an incident. They hadn’t had one in several days so Miller’s sudden appearance was an unhappy surprise.

What was even more of a surprise was that Miller was accompanied by Echo.

“What’s happened?” he asked, when he saw them glaring at each other.

Miller sighed. “It was one of the followers of the flame.”

Bellamy frowned. “Again? I thought Gaia spoke to them, got them all onboard.”

Miller nodded. “I thought so, too. But I guess there were a couple of holdouts. One of them was down in the mess hall, stirring things up. Almost came to blows with a few new nightbloods.”

 _Fuck_! _This_ _was_ just _what_ _they_ _didn’t_ _need_.

“Was it that woman again? Miriam?”

“Nope. Haven’t seen her for days. This was some asshole with a big mouth. Got a whole lot of people all riled up telling them they were cursed. I know from six years of experience that some of these grounders....uh,” he side-eyed Echo warily, “take curses seriously.“

Bellamy nodded, peering at Miller. “So how did you handle it?”

Miller shrugged. “We locked him in another room til he cools off. Calmed the others down.”

“And...that’s it?”

“Well, yeah, but Echo here insisted...”

“I can speak for myself, Miller,” Echo broke in, clearly annoyed. “And that is _not_ all.”

Bellamy eyed the two of them warily.

“What is it?” he asked, looking between them, but it was Echo who answered.

“That man must be confined,” she said emphatically.

“I thought he was...”

“Yes, but only for the moment. In a few hours, they will let him out. But he should be confined until we land.”

“Echo... we can’t do that just because he mouthed off. Hell, we’re not even going to be able to stop them from dying if that’s what they decide. How can we justify keeping them locked up for having an opinion we don’t like?”

“Justify? Bellamy, _you_ do not have to justify! You are the right-hand of the Heda. You can just...make it so!”

Bellamy shook his head. “I’m not going to become some kind of dictator, Echo, or let Madi become one either, if I can help it. There was too much _confining_ on the Ark... and on the ground, too. We... Clarke and I... we’re trying to do better. People are welcome to their opinions. They can disagree. Like you and... Miller.”

Echo stared at him silently, then shook her head.

“I don’t understand you, Bellamy,” she said sadly, and he knew she meant that quite literally.

“I know, Echo, and I’m sorry. But... this is the way it has to be.”

Bellamy eyed Miller, who’d turned away uncomfortably during his conversation with Echo.

“Let him cool down tonight and then let him out in the morning. And, Miller,” he added, turning a jaundiced eye on his security chief, “try to keep those people in line. We don’t need fights breaking out. It’s only a few more days.”

“Will do,” Miller agreed, turning to leave.

When Echo lingered, Bellamy waited, since she clearly had something else she wanted to say.

“Is there anything at all that we now agree on, Bellamy?” she finally asked in a quiet voice. “Will there ever be a time when you will again value my opinion?”

“That’s not true,” he protested mildly. “You know I value you.”

“Do you?” she asked softly, before following Miller out the door.

“Fuck!” he muttered under his breath, as guilt began to roil his stomach. He was so distressed by his exchange with Echo that until she spoke Bellamy had entirely forgotten that Raven was also in the room.

“Is that why you didn’t make Echo security chef?” she asked bluntly from her seat by the console. “Because you knew she might not be able to adapt to... a different way of thinking? I wondered about it at the time.”

Bellamy stared at her. In truth, he’d never even considered asking Echo to take that position. She was a great warrior, yes, but Miller had much more experience handling civilian populations. Or at least that’s what he’d told himself at the time.

“Or was it just that you didn’t want to have to meet with her that regularly?”

“ _What?_ No, of course not...” he began a weak protest but Raven’s eyes narrowed suddenly as she cut him off.

“Bellamy, have you even fucking _talked_ to Echo yet? Told her how you feel?”

As the guilt in his stomach began to crawl up his spine, he focused on deflection.

“Hey! You know how busy I am, Raven. You think maybe I should take time out of getting all these people ready to live on a new planet just to have a personal conversation that can wait until we land?”

“What a bunch of bullshit! Even I can see that things aren’t the same between you and Echo, and she deserves to know why. You have more than enough time to explain to her exactly why you’re not really even the same fucking _person_ you were back on the Ring... back when you thought Clarke was dead.”

“Jesus, Raven! Whatever’s happening or not happening with Echo and me has got _nothing_ to do with Clarke.”

“More bullshit! Of course it has to do with her! If you’re saying there’s nothing going on between you and Clarke, I’m not stupid, Bellamy. I already know that.”

“Of course there’s nothing going on! There’s _never_ been anything... like that... between Clarke and me.”

Raven threw up her hands and groaned in frustration.

“It’s not what you’re doing or not doing, you idiot, it’s how you _feel_ that matters here.”

Raven sighed, her gaze becoming more sympathetic.

“Look, you think I don’t know how you felt about Clarke before praimfaya? How much it tore your heart out when we had to leave her behind? You might have been able to put on a brave face with the others up there, but don’t forget that _I_ was the one who found you on the solarium floor, curled up in a ball. So I had some idea of the world of pain you were in.“

Bellamy’s eyes shifted away from Raven as he recalled the agony of those early months on the Ring. Remembered just how long it had taken him to get over losing Clarke. And he was pretty damn sure he _never_ got over the pain and the guilt of leaving her behind.

His head returned to the present when Raven continued.

“But I don’t think the others really got it. That any of them really knew how much you were hurting. Because most of the time you did such a damn good job of hiding it.”

She shrugged.

“I suppose... maybe... Murphy and Monty might have known... as much as guys ever think about that kind of shit. But Echo? She sure as hell never had a clue. Then later, when you finally came out of it, and the two of you got together, I... did think about telling her... something. But then I figured it was none of my damn business, and anyway, it would have been pointless. Cruel, even. After all, Clarke was dead.”

Raven smiled wryly.

“Except that she wasn’t dead. When I heard Clarke’s voice on the radio, Bellamy, and realized she’d actually made it, I was so damned happy. It wasn’t until later that it hit me. About you, I mean. If you’d still feel the same way about her after all that time. But then... when all that shit went down in Polis, I just figured... _no_ _way_.”

She shook her head slowly, as though at her own stupidity.

“But I guess I should have known. Ten minutes after seeing the two of you together, I knew I’d been dead wrong. That you still felt _exactly_ the same about Clarke Griffin.”

Bellamy closed his eyes, a wall of exhaustion hitting him unexpectedly.

“I’ve never said a word to Clarke that you couldn’t have overheard,” he told Raven, his voice tight. “This is all just on me. She has... no idea about anything.”

“Yeah? Well, I think maybe you should put on your big boy pants, man up, and tell Clarke, too. You might be surprised.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Someday.”

“Glad to hear it. But first, for fuck’s sake, explain yourself to Echo! I know you don’t want to hurt her, but putting it off is not gonna make it any easier. For either of you. I should know.”

He knew Raven was right. Echo was still family, still meant a lot to him and he hated the idea of hurting her. But he’d already figured out that he couldn’t just continue on with her like nothing had changed for him. As if the fact that Clarke Griffin was alive and well and _here_ made no difference in his life. Because it did.

It made all the difference in the world.

That was the moment Bellamy gave up the idea of waiting until they reached the ground. He knew he couldn’t delay any longer. He’d been an asshole and a coward, and he wouldn’t even be able to lay claim to Echo as his friend if he didn’t tell her the damn truth.

“You’re right,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll talk to her tonight.”

Raven nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now let’s get the hell back to work. All this personal talk is making me itchy.”

And tired as he was that night, Bellamy really tried to keep his promise to Raven, searching for Echo in all her usual spots. But when he couldn’t find her quickly, he finally gave in to his exhaustion.

Tomorrow night, he decided, collapsing into his bed, would certainly do just as well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is having a very tough day.

_Later_ \- _in_ _hindsight_ \- _Bellamy_ _knew_ _he_ _should_ _have_ _anticipated_ _it_. _Even_ _expected_ _it,_ _or_ _something_ _like_ _it_. _That_ _he_ _hadn’t_ _only_ _made_ _him_ _a_ _complacent_ _jackass_.

He was in the middle of passenger interviews the following day when Niylah brought the news, bursting into the room and shouting, “Bellamy! You have to come right now!”

“What the hell, Niylah? We’re having a meet...”

“It’s Clarke,” she said, cutting him off mid-word. “She’s been taken hostage.”

And suddenly, the world felt like it was moving in slow motion, like the air was heavy and his body could hardly pass through it.

Or maybe _he_ was the one moving in slow motion.

But an instant later, he was sprinting down the hallway, Madi racing after him. Not that she could hope to keep up with his longer legs and sheer muscle power.

Bellamy made it to the infirmary in thirty seconds flat.

“What the fuck is going on!” he bellowed when Miller grabbed his arm just as he reached for the door latch.

“It’s one of the followers of the flame,” Miller hissed, holding him back.

Bellamy shook him off roughly.

“Not the one...” His stomach roiled as he considered that his leniency the previous day might have ended up putting Clarke in danger.

But Miller was shaking his head. “No, it’s Miriam from the meeting. None of us had seen her for a few days, and I don’t know where the fuck she got the knife...”

“Knife!” Bellamy’s heart nearly stopped. It was hard as hell but he forced himself to slow his breathing. Him panicking wasn’t going to help Clarke.

“What the fuck happened here?” The words came out on a strangled breath.

It was Abby who answered, and for the first time he took note of the little knot of people near the infirmary door.

“Clarke was alone in the infirmary, Bellamy, except for a couple of new nightbloods. It doesn’t happen very often because usually one of us is there, too...”

Abby stopped suddenly, closing her eyes and wringing her hands. She’d been so fragile since her bout with the drugs and Bellamy could see that she was barely holding it together.

“Okay, Abby,” he nodded, trying hard to project a calm control that he certainly didn’t feel. “So Clarke was alone...and then Miriam...?”

“Miriam came in and grabbed her, and held a knife to her... to her throat, and told the others to leave. Niylah and I were just coming back when we met them outside the door, and they told me about it. About Miriam.” Abby took a deep breath and a small sob escaped. “About the knife.”

Bellamy struggled to get a firm grip on himself as he dug for more information. He knew he couldn’t help Clarke if he didn’t understand the situation. If he didn’t have all the facts.

“But Clarke is still okay? Miriam hasn’t hurt her?”

Abby shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

He expelled a relieved breath.

“So then what the hell does she want?” If hurting Clarke wasn't her aim - and for that, he thanked every deity he’d ever heard of - then what the fuck was she doing?

“She wants us to stop the transfusions.” It was Niylah’s voice this time. “That’s what she told the patients. That they should come and tell us that we need to stop the project.”

Bellamy sighed. _So_ _much_ _for_ _thinking_ _the_ _religious_ _zealots_ _had_ _all_ _been_ _convinced_.

He made another grab for the door latch, but again Miller hauled him back before he could make contact.

“Are you sure you want to do that? Every time we start to open that door, she jams the knife against Clarke’s throat.”

“Look, I just... I need to make sure Clarke is okay.” Bellamy could feel his frustration rising. He thought furiously, finally coming up with a half-assed plan. “You find Gaia. Maybe she can talk Miriam down.”

Miller nodded, barking orders into his radio as he took off at a fast clip, and Bellamy once again approached the door.

Madi tugged at his hand. “Maybe I should talk to her,” she said, her brow furrowed with worry. “Maybe she’ll listen to the commander.”

Bellamy eyed her, considering. Yeah, Madi was Heda, and her presence would carry weight, but he knew Clarke wouldn’t thank him if while trying to save her he endangered Madi. He’d been down that road once already.

“Okay,” he said finally, agreeing. “But you get behind me and I’ll let her know you’re here. See what she says.”

He knocked briskly, then cracked open the door, calling out loudly, “Miriam? This is Bellamy Blake. It sounds like you want to talk to someone in authority, so I’ve brought you Heda. Can I open the door so she can speak to you?”

He let out a quick relieved breath when he heard the quiet “Yes” from inside the room.

“Okay, here she is,” he said, opening the door just wide enough for the two of them to stand side by side.

Bellamy’s eyes flew immediately to the tableau across the room. Two women, one much taller and heavier, holding a knife to the smaller woman’s throat.

To Clarke’s throat.

He wrapped a protective arm around Madi, but his gaze locked on Clarke, seeing first the fear in her eyes and then the small measure of hope when she saw him standing there.

Although Bellamy could feel Madi’s rising panic in the trembling of her body, she nevertheless spoke with authority.

“You must put the knife down and let Clarke go, Miriam,” she said briskly. “I have already given my... blessing to this plan because it will save my people.”

Miriam smiled courteously at the child-commander, but shook her head.

“No disrespect, Heda, but you do not understand. I know you were not raised in the faith so I do not judge you. But I must stop this sacrilege before it is too late.”

“Too late?”

“Before we are all cursed.”

 _More_ _fucking_ _curses_. Bellamy felt utterly out of his depth. When Madi failed to respond, he guessed maybe the commanders weren’t helping her this time. Hell, maybe the commanders were on Miriam’s side!

He heard a commotion behind him, and then Gaia’s soft voice.

“Heda, please... let me speak to Miriam. Maybe I can help.”

Madi stepped back and Gaia took her place beside him.

“You should be ashamed to show your face here, Gaia.” Miriam spoke as soon as she spied the _fleimkepa_ , and her voice was harsh with contempt. “You are a disgrace to your position.”

“Miriam,” Gaia’s soft voice was kind, sympathetic. “I understand how you feel. This has been hard for me, too. It goes against everything I was taught to believe.”

“Then why have you allowed it?”

Bellamy could hear the agony in the woman’s voice and understood that her actions sprang from sincere belief. Not that that made any difference to him. Not when Clarke was in danger.

 _Fuck_ _sincerity_ _if_ _it_ _meant_ _he_ _could_ _lose_ _her_ _again_.

“Because I can’t imagine the gods want our people to die on this ship when they could have a chance at a life on this new planet.”

“You no longer speak for the gods, Gaia,” Miriam said with conviction. “So I knew it was up to me. All this time I have prayed, asking the gods to tell me how to end this... abomination. It was when I found this knife in the kitchen that I knew what I had to do.”

A fucking _kitchen_ _knife?_ Bellamy couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to forget about _kitchen_ _knives_. But then, it had been so long since he’d had anything other than manufactured rations.

“And what have the gods told you, Miriam?” Gaia was asking, her voice still pitched to be calm and soothing. “What must you do?”

“The gods told me I should kill Wanheda. I have not forgotten that she was the first to commit this sacrilege, the first to turn herself into a nightblood. But I find it is against my nature to take a life. Even for the gods.” She paused. “Unless I have no other choice. So I will let her live, but only if you stop what you’re doing.”

Bellamy’s guts had begun to churn as soon as he’d heard the words “kill Wanheda.” He knew he would promise this crazy loon anything to get her away from Clarke.

 _Anything_ _at_ _all_.

“What would you have us do, Miriam?” he asked quickly. “To show that we’ve stopped the conversions?”

“I... don’t know.” She sounded surprised. Like she’d never considered they might comply.

But after a moment’s thought, she said, “You must destroy everything in this room. When I see that it is impossible for you to carry on, only then will I let Wanheda go.”

 _Shit_! _How_ _the_ _hell_ _were_ _they_ _going_ _to_ _convince_ _this_ _woman_ _they’d_ _destroyed_ _everything_... _and_ _still_ _keep_ _what_ _they_ _needed_ _to_ _finish_ _the_ _conversions?_ _Was_ _it_ _even_ _possible_?

“Let me just check into how we might get that done for you,” Bellamy told her, doing his best to keep the rising panic out of his voice. “I’ll... need to talk to the doctors.”

“Bellamy, no!” The words tumbled out of Clarke. “We can’t stop now!”

“Quiet, Wanheda!”

When Miriam’s right arm arced up, Bellamy could see the light glinting off the metal knifeblade as it was pushed tightly against Clarke’s throat. Her left arm held Clarke firmly by the waist.

“Just hold on, Clarke,” he said hurriedly. “Let us work this out.”

The last thing he wanted was Clarke making some heroic gesture and getting herself... hurt before they had a chance to find a solution.

“I’m going to talk to the doctors now, Miriam,” he said again. “So... everyone just stay put.”

Bellamy caught Clarke’s eye, praying she understood his wordless assurance that they’d find a way.

Leaving Gaia to keep an eye on the situation, he backed away from the doorway, unsurprised to find that Abby and Madi were still in the hallway, rooted to a spot a few feet from Miller. But he hadn’t expected to see Octavia and Echo there as well.

Miller shrugged when he saw Bellamy’s surprise. “Figured we could use some reinforcements in case we decide to rush her.”

“ _Rush_ _her?_ ” Bellamy was aghast. “Are you fucking nuts? She may have only a kitchen knife, but just like everything else on this ship, it looks like it’s still in perfect condition. Clarke would be dead before we were halfway across the room.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Madi whispered, and Bellamy could see the fear in her face. Despite whatever support she might be drawing from all those commanders in her head, she was still only a child, and Clarke was the only mother she’d known for years.

Abby wasn’t looking much better, but he hoped she could pull herself together because he needed her input.

“How many conversions are left to be done?” he asked. Maybe it was only a handful? Something they could handle despite the loss of equipment.

“About 50,” Abby said, after a moment’s thought. “Including Jackson and myself. And... Marcus.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miller tense at the reminder that Jackson was still vulnerable.

“You haven’t converted yet?” He was surprised.

She shook her head. “We didn’t want to stop working long enough to recover, so we decided early on that we’d be last. At the time, it didn’t seem... terribly important. And now... Bellamy, we only need a few more days to finish.”

He could see her anguish, feel how torn she was between her fear for her daughter and her commitment to saving the lives of every passenger. He knew exactly how she felt.

Bellamy sighed. Were he and Clarke destined to be continually placed in this position? Forced to consider sacrificing other people, _people_ _less_ _important_ _to_ _them_ , just to save each other? He straightened his back and clenched his fist, determined that this time would be different. This time, no one would be sacrificed. This time, they’d somehow figure out a way to save Clarke without condemning fifty of their brethren to death.

“Is there anything that’s not in the infirmary?” he asked Abby. “Something Miriam doesn’t know about, that would allow you to carry on if we trashed the room like she wants?”

Her head was shaking before he even finished. “Everything’s in that room, even the disposable hypodermics.”

Bellamy nodded. It was what he’d expected.

“Let me talk to her again.”

He resumed his place in the doorway, bent on reassuring Miriam that “the doctors were discussing” her demands.

And as the afternoon wore on, a parade of individuals joined him in that doorway, all trying their best to change Miriam’s mind. Madi spoke at length, reminding the woman that Clarke was not just Wanheda, she was also the Heda’s mother. And then Gaia took her place, insisting that the gods frowned on violence done in their name. But neither argument swayed Miriam or indeed made any impact at all.

Bellamy himself pointed out that if she didn’t stand down, her fate was likely to be very unpleasant. That even if she won, she would lose.

“Do you really want to die, Miriam, when you could have many good years ahead of you?”

But her reply was no more than he expected.

“Do you think I care what happens to me, Bellamy Blake? I care only about stopping this atrocity.”

Words that could have come from the mouth of any zealot - and every martyr - since the dawn of time.

The other followers of the flame had been watching the drama unfold from a distance, and they eventually offered their assistance. Bellamy could think of no reason not to let them try.

“This is not the way, Miriam,” their spokesman said, stepping into the spot in the doorway.

From the wary expression on Miller’s face, Bellamy knew the man had to be yesterday’s troublemaker.

But today he wasn’t causing trouble. Today he was trying to help.

But his efforts were unsuccessful.

“Bah! You have done nothing but bluster about how terrible it all is, Jacko, but I know in the end you would probably agree to take the nightblood. I must make sure that doesn’t happen. I must save you from yourself.”

The man left, shaking his head.

As the hours ticked by, others came to try their hand - unsuccessfully - at talking Miriam down. And still Bellamy remained rooted to that spot in the doorway. Waiting in vain for Miriam’s attention to wander, for her to let down her guard, if only for an instant. Under other circumstances, he might have been impressed by her focus. By her determination and her fortitude. Today, her single-mindedness just ratcheted up his anxiety level.

And all the while he kept up his wordless communication with Clarke, hoping she understood everything he was trying to tell her with his eyes: that she had to hang on, not make any sudden moves, not precipitate a crisis. Not force Miriam to _react_.

When, late in the day, his own legs began to stiffen from standing in one position for so many hours, Bellamy also noticed signs - the shift of a foot, the slight droop of a shoulder - that the constant vigilance had finally begun to exhaust Miriam. Fear ran up his spine when he realized that very soon the situation would come to a head.

Miriam was a fanatic, sure of the justness of her cause. And if she felt herself flagging, she might not want to kill Clark, but Bellamy was 100% certain that she would.

He was still dealing with this new and terrifying revelation when he felt a sudden movement behind him, and heard Echo’s voice in his ear.

“We have to do something about this woman, Bellamy. Every hour that goes by is an hour we don’t have. We have only a few days’ worth of rations left. Abby and... the others need to finish.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he muttered darkly, biting off the words and tossing them over his shoulder. But his eyes never left Clarke. Or the knife at her throat. “I hope you’re not going to suggest rushing her again.”

“I’m certain you wouldn’t approve that plan,” Echo said drily. “Do you have another?”

“I’m... waiting her out.”

But Bellamy knew in his gut that _waiting_ _her_ _out_ might not be enough to save Clarke, and he felt more helpless than he had in years. Even in Polis, at his lowest point, he’d had a plan. Several, in fact. If, in the end, they’d all turned out to be complete failures, at least he’d been able to act.

Today, he felt like his brain had completely shut down. And understood that he was so immobilized by his fear of losing Clarke again that he was unable to formulate and execute any kind of rescue plan.

Behind him, Echo said. “You may be willing to wait forever, Bellamy, but Miriam will not. And we cannot.”

His frustration rose because he knew she was right, but there was fuck all he could do about it.

When he didn’t respond, Echo sighed and left without another word.

 _It_ _was_ _only_ _minutes_ _later_ _that_ _he_ _heard_ _it_.

A huge commotion in the hallway, one that was so loud that it grabbed not only his attention, but that of the occupants of the infirmary.

Bellamy was so focused on the noise behind him that he didn’t notice Echo step into the doorway beside him. Didn’t see her reach into her pocket. And he certainly didn’t see the knife she pulled out and let loose, or the arc it made as it whooshed across the room.

In fact, he knew nothing at all about that knife until it was buried in Miriam’s throat.

Bellamy supposed it was the blood dripping onto her shoulder that told Clarke that her ordeal might be over. Either that, or the loosening of the vise-like grip around her waist. Or it may have been the sound of that shiny kitchen knife clattering onto the floor at her feet.

She was across the room like a shot, her eyes glassy with relief. And for a moment he was sure she was going to throw herself into his arms, just like she had all those years ago outside Camp Jaha.

But then her eyes flicked briefly toward the woman beside him, and she pulled up short, grabbing onto his hands instead, squeezing them tightly.

“It’s over,” she said, the tears of relief beginning to spill. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“You’re okay,” he told her, smiling his own relief. “I couldn’t have been anywhere else.”

They stared at one another for... five seconds?... five years?... and then Clarke flushed and dropped his hands, turning to Echo.

“Thank you,” she said. “I know we aren’t... friends and that you didn’t do it for me. I know you did it for Madi. But I’m still very grateful.”

Echo stared at Clarke, her expression guarded. “It doesn’t matter why I did it, Wanheda. It needed to be done.”

Madi rushed past him then, crashing into Clarke, as it finally dawned on Bellamy exactly what had happened.

Echo had saved Clarke.

She had used her considerable knife skills to end the day-long crisis. It had been a risky move but it had worked, and he wasn’t going to quarrel with success.

“Echo,” he turned to her, eager to add his own thanks, but she cut him off before he could say another word.

“Never mind, Bellamy. I already know what you’re going to say. Let’s just get back to work.”

XXXXXXXXXX

They did, in fact, get right back to work.

Clarke assured them all she was fine, and when Abby and Bellamy protested mildly that she should take at least a little time to recover from her ordeal, she insisted that what she wanted most was to make up for the hours they’d lost because of Miriam.

Bellamy wasn’t sure he believed her, but he knew Clarke, knew it would be pointless to argue. So after all those hours of torturous and nearly immobile vigilance, he left the infirmary to the medical staff and returned on stiffened legs to his own duties.

If he’d thought he might not be able to plunge back into topics as mundane as planning and logistics, he found that wasn’t the case. Whether it was the unspent adrenalin still coursing through him, or simply the sheer relief that Clarke was okay, Bellamy felt energized, like he could go on forever making lists and charts and plans for the future.

The crash came suddenly, hours later. One moment he was deep into proposed building layouts, and the next he was nearly asleep on the table.

It was only when he’d dragged himself back to his quarters that he remembered that he still hadn’t spoken to Echo. Bellamy swore, making a mental note to find her first thing in the morning.

He heard the knock at his door just as he was considering dropping onto his bunk fully-clothed. When he opened it and saw it was Echo, he knew that fate had stepped in.

“Echo.” Bellamy pulled the door wider, allowing her to enter. “I just got back...”

“Yes, I know,” she interrupted. “I came by a couple of times earlier but you weren’t here.”

He frowned, perplexed. “If you wanted to talk to me you knew where I was.”

She nodded, glancing around his quarters aimlessly.

“Have a seat,” he said, waving her towards the solitary chair while he perched on the edge of his bunk. “Why didn’t you come and find me?” he asked again.

Echo shook her head. “This was not a conversation I wanted to have where someone might interrupt us.”

That brought him up short.

“Okay,” he nodded, pretty certain he knew what was coming. “Go ahead.”

Echo hesitated, but the question that finally burst out of her was not at all what he’d expected.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you and Wan... and Clarke were lovers?”

_“What?_ You think Clarke and I... that we’ve been...” 

“Not _now_ ,” she interrupted hastily. “I meant... before. Before praimfaya. Before the Ring.”

__

He was already shaking his head.

__

“Clarke and I have never been lovers. Never even came close.”

__

Echo stared. “I know you’re not a liar, Bellamy, so I believe you. Maybe... I’ve asked the wrong question.”

__

Bellamy sighed. “What is it you really want to know, Echo? I’ll be as honest as I can.”

__

She looked thoughtful. “Maybe what I should have asked was... were you in love with her? Back before we left for the Ring. Was she in love with you? Would you have become lovers if she hadn’t been left behind?”

__

And there it was. The things he’d never spoken of to her because what was the point? _Clarke_ _had_ _been_ _dead_.

__

Bellamy took a deep breath, trying to choose his words with care. Wanting to be honest, because it was what she deserved. But at the same time, wanting to hurt her as little as possible.

__

“I was never really sure how Clarke felt,” he said finally, because it was the truth. “We never talked about it. But there at the end, when we were both so sure we were getting on that rocket together, I thought she might love me after all. I hoped she did, and that we would become lovers. I wanted it very much.”

__

Just for a moment he closed his eyes against the pain. His in the past. Echo’s, he was afraid, about to come.

__

“But as for me, after everything we went through, it took me a long time to figure out how I felt about Clarke. But by then...yes, I knew I was in love with her.”

__

He thought he’d prepared himself for it, but it was still hard to see the pain reflected in Echo’s eyes before she hid it behind her usual mask.

__

She nodded. “I see. I don’t think I ever really understood how it was with you and Clarke. Back then, I was never around the two of you except as your enemy. Clarke was just... Wanheda. And I knew about Lexa, of course, but that’s all. Not about you. About the two of you.”

__

He shook his head. “There was no way you could have known. I barely even let myself think about my feelings for Clarke. And then later, on the Ring, after you and I got together, there didn’t seem much point in telling you. I mean... Clarke was dead.”

__

Echo nodded, but then hesitated, her lips pressed together with determination. And Bellamy knew there were more questions to be asked. More answers required of him.

__

“And now?” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “How do you feel about her now? Do you still love her?”

__

“Echo...”

__

Dammit! This was the hardest part. He had no idea how the hell to explain how it was that all those emotions he’d thought dead and buried for six years had suddenly sprung into life. Filling him. _Overwhelming_ _him_.

__

But he’d promised to be honest, and he was damn well going to try.

__

“At first, when we found her, I was just so happy that she’d made it. I could hardly believe it. And I thought everything could stay the same except... better. Because I wouldn't have to carry the pain that Clarke was dead or the guilt that I’d left her behind. I had her back.”

__

Bellamy’s lips twisted in a small dry smile because the joke had been on him.

__

“But I’d forgotten all about the connection that had always been there between us, right from the beginning. Or maybe I remembered, but thought that after six years it must be gone.”

__

He looked up at Echo through half-lidded eyes.

__

“But I was wrong about that, because I was drawn to Clarke just as strongly as I’d ever been. It took me a little while, but I finally figured out that that feeling... it wasn’t ever going away. We were still deeply connected, and we always would be.”

__

Bellamy sighed. “And I also knew that I couldn’t be with one woman when I felt that way about another. It just... it wasn’t right.”

__

Echo was silent for a moment, and he knew she must be absorbing the implications of his words.

__

“I’m sorry, Echo,” he said softly. “You’ve been nothing but good to me and you don’t deserve this.”

__

But her expression never changed and she had just one more question. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?” she asked, her quiet voice barely above a whisper.

__

“Because I’d told you that nothing would change between us on the ground and I hated not being able to keep that promise. Because I can’t stand hurting you.” He shrugged. “Because I’m an asshole and a coward.”

__

That brought a small sad smile to her face, “Perhaps, but at least you are an honest asshole.”

__

There was little to say after that. Echo rose and was out the door without a backward glance.

__

Afterwards, although he’d been nearly dropping from exhaustion, Bellamy found that sleep was elusive. His mind was a jumble as the day’s events kept replaying, shifting back and forth between the tense standoff in the infirmary and his hours of worry about Clarke, to his difficult conversation with Echo.

__

_The_ _entire_ _fucking_ _day_ _had_ _been_ _gut_ - _wrenching_.

__

And as he tossed and turned, his emotions kept wavering between relief and guilt.

__

Overwhelming relief that Clarke was unharmed.

__

Guilt that he’d had to hurt Echo.

__

Relief that he’d finally explained himself to Echo.

__

Guilt again, because the same conversation that had lifted a burden from him had caused Echo pain.

__

Bellamy turned his head and pounded his fist into the thin pillow. _Christ! He_ _was_ _a_ _mess_.

__


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightblood conversions are done but now there’s a new complication. And Clarke is off on a new mission.

In the end, it took four more arduous days to complete the nightblood conversions. They all worked with a desperate sense of urgency, frantic to be finished before anything or anyone could interfere again.

Clarke was glad she had something to focus on. She told herself the long days were just what she needed to keep her mind from constantly circling back to those terrible hours she’d rather forget.

Because while Clarke had assured her mother and Bellamy that she was _just_ _fine_ , that hadn’t been precisely true.

As she moved about the infirmary, quickly shifting from task to task, she told herself over and over that it had been nothing. That she’d come to no harm. That compared to everything else she’d endured - the myriad kidnappings and torture and near-death experiences, all the dangers she’d survived on the Ark and on the ground - this latest trauma should be easy to shake off.

But somehow... it just wasn’t.

Every time Clarke looked in a mirror and saw the tiny nicks all over her neck, she was thrown right back into it. The sharpness of the blade, the pressure of the knife pressed against her with shaking hands. Likewise, the bruises on the skin above her ribs told the tale of a strong woman with an arm like a vise who’d held onto her so tightly that sometimes she’d scarcely been able to breathe

The ordeal had lasted for hours and Clarke had been frightened the whole time. But the worst part was how helpless she’d felt. She’d been at the center of it all, but had no control over any of it.

All afternoon and into the evening, she’d watched as a procession of supplicants appeared at the infirmary door, all trying to talk Miriam down.

Madi had come, of course, more than once, and Clarke’s heart had ached when she saw the fear in her daughter’s eyes. Then Gaia, and Indra, and even Niylah had given it a shot. Clarke had been surprised when a spokesman for the followers of the flame had arrived, but Miriam had only treated the man with contempt.

Eventually Abby had appealed as a mother, trying to get Miriam to see Clarke as a human being, a daughter, rather than just a pawn. But Miriam reminded Abby that her infant had died in the City of Light, and she wasn’t interested in a mother’s pleas.

Each time someone new appeared, Clarke had wanted desperately to believe that this was the one who’d utter the magic words that would finally get through to Miriam, and the woman would set her free. But all along, she’d known deep down that it was just a distraction. A game. That they were playing for time. And that behind the scenes, Miller and the others must be trying to figure out a way to safely disarm Miriam.

But Clarke had known that was impossible. That no matter what they tried, she’d be dead within seconds.

So she’d concentrated on not letting her feelings of helplessness turn into panic. On forgetting that every breath she took might be her last. And on remembering that any sudden movement could lead to another nick from the knife.

She’d focused on her breathing. On controlling her fear. On remaining still.

And it had worked.

But Clarke knew very well that she wouldn’t have been able to manage it for all those hours if it hadn’t been for Bellamy.

Bellamy, who’d never left that doorway. Whose eyes had locked onto hers at just the right moments, as though he knew when panic had begun to lick at her heels. And although he’d remained mostly silent, Clarke had clung to the words he’d spoken right at the start.

 _Just_ _hold_ _on_ , _Clarke_. _Let_ _us_ _figure_ _this_ _out_.

And as long as he’d stayed in that spot, she’d been able to do just that. Hold on. Remain calm. Have hope.

Give herself a chance.

And then... _Echo_!

Even now, days later, Clarke could hardly believe that it was Echo who’d saved her. The woman who’d tried to kill her so many times that Clarke had lost count. A woman who very obviously had little use for her.

And the only person on that ship with the precision knife skills required to manage that throw.

She’d done it for Madi, of course. That was the only thing that made sense. Echo was still true to her grounder roots, Madi was Heda, and Clarke was Madi’s mother.

Afterwards, in her relief, Clarke had impulsively begun to run straight into Bellamy’s arms, before she’d remembered at the last minute that she couldn’t do that any more. That she didn’t have the right to embrace him in that way.

She’d told herself she didn’t need that. That the connection she had with Bellamy was still strong in every way that really mattered. That he was the one who’d kept her sane and got her through it as no one else could have done.

So she’d just smiled at Bellamy and squeezed his hands, and expressed her gratitude to Echo to let them both know that she understood what was what.

XXXXXXXXXX

“That’s it, Clarke,” Abby said from her cot, the last one of them to receive the nightblood. “I think that after everything you’ve been through, you should be the one to let them know there’s no reason we can’t be on the ground tomorrow.”

Clarke nodded, but her smile was wry. “It’s going to feel strange delivering good news for once.”

When she got to the bridge, Clarke was surprised to find not only Raven, Shaw, and Bellamy, as she’d expected, but a lot of the others as well.

“What’s up?” she asked quickly, her heart beginning to sink when she saw their serious expressions.

From across the room, Bellamy looked up at her and smiled.

He seemed to be smiling at her a lot these days, but Clarke tried hard not to read anything into that. After all the terrible ways they’d torn each other to shreds during those last days on Earth, she and Bellamy were in a good place now. Back to leading together. Back to understanding each other. Back to... _them_.

She reminded herself that the smiles were just a reflection of that.

“Are the conversions done, then?” he asked

“Yes. So why aren’t you all grinning from ear to ear? And why is everyone here?”

It wasn’t everyone, of course, but it was a lot of them. She was happy to see Madi, taking the opportunity to give her a brief hug, because the nightblood conversions had left Clarke little time for her daughter. Bellamy’s family - Echo, Murphy, Emori - were there, too, as well as Miller and Indra. And perhaps most surprisingly, Diyoza, whose belly was looking larger than ever.

It was Raven who answered her.

“We’ve, uh, had a little glitch.”

Clarke frowned. “A glitch?”

Raven nodded. “Shaw and I finally realized a few days ago that we couldn’t just take the big shuttle to the ground, like Diyoza did when she landed on Earth.”

“Why not?” That had been the original plan.

“Because, _Clarke_ , since we woke up, this damn ship has been hit twelve times by solar flares! What was that... three weeks ago? So far, they haven’t caused any real damage, but that’s because they’ve been glancing blows. We’ve been lucky. But it’s only a matter of time before one hits us full-on, and then...pow!”

“ _Pow?_ ”

“The damn ship blows up. Or at least we lose some important function. And we _need_ this ship. We need its supplies and its technology to help in making a new home. If we leave it here orbiting the planet it will eventually be destroyed.”

Clarke nodded. “So what’s the new plan?”

Raven took a deep breath. “We land this fucker on the planet.”

Surprised, Clarke turned to Diyoza. “Can that even be done?”

“It can,” the colonel said. “The Eligius has a fully-functioning landing system. But it’s only meant for emergencies. And as far as I know, this ship has never been landed. On anything.”

“I can do it,” Shaw spoke up immediately. “I’d been focusing on landing the large shuttle, but I’ve also checked out the main ship and I don’t see any problems.“

Clarke shrugged. “Okay, if that’s what we need to do then...” her voice dropped off as she studied their frowns. “There’s something else.”

Raven sighed. “Take a look outside, Clarke. At the planet.”

Clarke turned toward the observation window. When they’d first awoken, she’d come there often. Had loved looking down on their new home. But lately she just hadn’t had the time.

She saw the change immediately.

A thick white blanket seemed to surround the entire planet. It looked like clouds, but... _heavier_ , more impenetrable.

“What is it?” she asked, her eyes glued to the planet below.

Raven shrugged. “We can’t be sure. Maybe it’s just a really dense cloud cover. But whatever it is, it’s not only blocking our view, it’s also blocking our instruments. We can’t get any readings from the planet.”

Clarke dragged her eyes from the cloud-covered planet back to Raven.

“But it’s temporary, right? It will go away.”

“Probably, but we don’t have time to wait. We need to get this ship down there now. And the thing is, it’s so fucking big that it has very little maneuverability, so we need to know exactly where we’re setting down. We can’t take the chance of landing in a hilly area, or on some treetops because we don’t want the damn thing to break up and kill us all. To land this thing smoothly, Shaw needs a nice flat plain. But right at the moment, without visuals or instrument readings... we’re pretty much running blind.”

“So how do we find Shaw his flat surface?”

“I was just telling the rest of them when you walked in,” the ever-confident Raven said. “There’s a small shuttle, just big enough for two or three passengers. It’s the only thing we have that’s maneuverable enough to go in blind. When it gets light down there - and we can tell that from the planet’s position relative to the suns - I’ll take that shuttle down and have a look around for the best spot to land this crate.”

Bellamy interrupted. “And as I was just telling _Raven_ , I’m sure she could land the small shuttle with no problem. But she can’t fly it around the planet. So then there’s getting out and walking around to find the flats and get the coordinates Shaw needs. And, Raven,” Bellamy frowned, and Clarke could see in his face his reluctance to say whatever it was that was coming next, “I know your leg is a thousand times better than it used to be. But you’re still not up to that kind of a hike. Which is why I’m going with you...”

“I don’t need you to come, Bellamy!” Raven began to huff.

“No, Bellamy can’t go,” Clarke said quickly, heading off what she knew would end up in interminable - as well as unnecessary - bickering. “He’s still too busy getting everything on the ship ready. But for now, I’m done with my job, so I’ll go with Raven.”

“Clarke, no!” The cry sprang from Madi, and then she gave a tiny gasp, as though she’d suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be the commander and not a frightened child. She took a deep breath and added with more dignity, “You deserve a rest.”

“Don’t worry, Madi,” Bellamy said firmly. “Clarke doesn’t have to go. I‘m not that busy.”

Clarke whirled on him. “You may be _not_ _that_ _busy_ , Bellamy, but I’m doing nothing at all! Besides which, I’m the person who survived for months _on_ _my_ _own_ in a wasteland, or did you forget about that? I think I can walk a few miles and find what we need. And I know how to use the instruments to get the coordinates. So I’m definitely the one to take care of this.”

As Bellamy stared at her, his expression unreadable, Clarke felt her back go up.

 _Dammit!_ She needed to get rid of that feeling she’d had ever since she’d been caught unawares and taken hostage. The feeling that she was helpless. Not in control. She needed to _do_ something!

He finally blinked at her and said mildly, “Why does it always have to be you hurling yourself into the unknown, Clarke? You have no idea what dangers you might find walking around on that planet. You just...” he looked away for a moment, sighing, “went through something...”

“I will go with her.”

It was Echo who’d spoken, and Bellamy and Clarke turned towards her in surprise.

She nodded at them. “I will accompany Wanheda on the planet while she gets the coordinates.”

“Echo... I... that’s not necessary.” Clarke was shocked that Echo had made such an offer. “Surely you must have something more important to do.”

Echo shrugged. “Finding a place to land this ship seems important. You’ll get the numbers you need, and I will... make sure there are no problems. Raven will pilot the shuttle.”

“Echo,” Bellamy asked her quietly, “are you sure you want to do this?”

“It seems like what is best,” she said, her face impassive.

“Well, okay, then.” Raven’s voice was dry as dust. “Looks like it’s a girlie road trip. I can hardly wait.”

And after that, Clarke didn’t see how she could refuse.

She nodded to Raven. “Let’s do it.”

When she heard Echo murmur, “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to her,” Clarke turned with a grateful smile, pleased that Echo was taking a moment to reassure Madi.

But Echo wasn’t addressing Madi at all. Indeed, she was looking straight at Bellamy.

XXXXXXXXXX

“This planet is much smaller than Earth, and Shaw and I had already decided which of the two continents would be best to settle on,” Raven explained to Clarke and Echo as the shuttle hurtled through space. “We even knew what part of the continent we should be aiming for.”

“How close do you think you’ll be able to get to where we need to be?” Clarke asked.

Raven shrugged. “Most of the land on the edge of this continent is pretty hilly. A lot of the flatlands are really just... gentler hills. When we finally figured out we needed to take the whole ship down, there were only two spots that seemed even remotely big enough. We’d just started on the calculations to make a final choice when that fucking cloud cover rolled in.”

“So... are these two possible landing sites near each other?” Clarke asked, wondering just how complicated this mission was going to be.

Raven sighed, eyeing Clarke warily. “Not too far apart. But... here’s the thing. The land between the two flat spots is pretty hilly. Almost a small mountain. So if the first one doesn’t work out, it may be quite a climb to get to the next.”

“I see no problem with that,” Echo spoke up quickly. “Much of the Azgeda land was not only hilly it was often icy. I learned to climb from an early age.”

She looked toward Clarke, her expression confident.

“If Wanheda cannot find the strength to make the climb, I will assist her,” she promised.

When Raven nodded, and said _good_ , Clarke wondered if they’d both forgotten that while they were orbiting the Earth on the Ring for six years, she was living on the ground, her only companion a child. Did they think tiny Madi had helped her traverse difficult terrain? Didn’t they realize it was the other way around?

Clarke sighed inwardly, wondering if she would ever stop having to prove herself to everyone she’d been separated from for all those years. Only Bellamy seemed to accept that six years of near-isolation hadn’t addled her brain or broken her body.

Then she caught Echo’s eye and quickly turned away, determined to put all thoughts of Bellamy Blake firmly from her mind.

When they broke through the cloud cover a few moments later, and the planet came into view, Raven whooped with relief. She busied herself with the instruments, punching numbers into what seemed to Clarke like a dozen different screens, trying to adjust the direction of the shuttle.

Soon the vessel slowed dramatically, and the pitch changed, so that when they hit the ground a few minutes later it was with a far softer impact than the drop ship landing that Clarke had suffered so many years before.

Clarke spied the look of relief on Echo’s face before she hid it beneath her usual calm mask.

But Raven was grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, that was fun!” she said, and Clarke couldn’t help but smile at her sheer exuberance.

“Right! Maybe for you, but I’ll be just as happy when I never have to do that again.”

When she saw they’d landed on the edge of what looked like a large plain, Clarke began to think that for once they may have gotten lucky.

“Was this spot your first choice for landing the Eligius?“ she asked.

Raven nodded. “It was. But from space, we couldn’t tell if it was big enough.”

Raven unlocked the door, and it wasn’t long after Clarke and Echo got out to have a look around that Clarke realized with some disappointment that they hadn’t been that lucky after all.

“Looks like we’re going to have to trek to the other site, Echo,” Clarke said unhappily. “This one is too small.”

Echo frowned. “It seems quite large.“

“It is large,” Clarke agreed. “Just not large enough to land a circular ship that’s a half-mile in diameter.”

“Are you sure?”

Echo didn‘t seen convinced and Clarke wondered just how much technological knowhow she’d absorbed on the Ring.

“This tells me what I need to know,” she said, holding up the small laser measuring instrument. “And this meadow, or whatever the hell it is, is about a hundred feet short. So we need to find the other one.”

Without waiting for further comment, Clarke began the short trek back to the shuttle to let Raven know that their day was going to be a little longer and more complicated.

“I was afraid of that,” Raven frowned. “But this spot was nearer fresh water and looked easier to defend. But we can‘t make the ship any smaller.” She sighed, pointing to a pair of low rolling hills at some distance. “Just on the other side of those hills there should be a much bigger flatland. Just take some measurements to make sure it’s large enough and then calculate and record the coordinates.”

Clarke nodded. “We can leave as soon as I pack.”

A few minutes later she was loading the last of her medical supplies and extra rations into her backpack when she noted Echo’s frown.

“Why are are you taking all that?” Echo asked, gesturing at Clarke’s full pack. “It will just slow you down. When what we need is to be quick.”

Clarke was silent for a moment, wondering how - or even if - she should try to explain herself to Echo.

Finally she shrugged.

“I lived where there was no one around to help if I ran into trouble, Echo, so I learned never to leave camp without taking adequate supplies. Without preparing for whatever might happen. Especially when I’m going someplace unfamiliar.”

She paused, raising her brows.

“And for me, this is a light pack. I’m used to carrying much heavier ones, so it won’t slow me down at all. But you should do whatever you like.”

Echo narrowed her eyes at Clarke and then shrugged in turn. “For a walk of a few hours, I need only my weapon and some rations.”

“Right,” Clarke said, hefting her pack onto her shoulder and starting off in the direction of the hills Raven had pointed out earlier.

“You’ve got your walkie and the instruments?” Raven shouted after her, but Clarke only waved her hand and kept walking.

Soon enough she heard Echo’s hurried footsteps following along behind.

It wasn’t the most difficult trek Clarke had ever taken, but neither was it the easiest.

Of the two hills they were forced to surmount, the first was definitely the trickier. The route they took climbed steadily higher through the trees until they suddenly and unexpectedly found themselves hugging a narrow path on the very edge of the summit.

If she hadn’t been able to see in the distance that the downward path became wider, Clarke might have suggested that they backtrack and try to find another, easier, route. But they were pressed for time and she was thankful that wasn’t going to necessary.

The slope of the second hill was gentler, more forgiving, and there were no dangerous narrow paths. But it was also larger, and they could find no shortcuts to save them time and energy.

While she’d made the entire trip without once needing Echo‘s help, Clarke was nevertheless relieved to finally reach Raven’s flatlands several hours after they’d left the shuttle. And she was ecstatic when her instruments told her that the property could easily accommodate the enormous Eligius.

She tried to use the walkie to let Raven know, but was unsuccessful.

“We must be out of range,” she told Echo with a shrug.

Echo merely nodded silently, completely in keeping with her level of communication that day. But then Clarke knew very well that Echo’s offer of company had been one of protection and assistance, not friendship. And that she and Echo would likely never be friends.

While she’d been able to quickly calculate the area of the parcel, it took Clarke a little longer, using unfamiliar instruments, to obtain the coordinates that they needed to pass on to Shaw.

Echo’s impatience was palpable.

“Can you not work a little faster, Wanheda?” she grumbled, frowning. “We must get back.”

“It’s important that these be exact,” Clarke told her, “or we’ll end up where we don’t want to be. It’s protocol to take the readings three times, just to be sure.”

In truth, it hadn’t taken her that long, so Clarke was amused when she heard Echo’s weary sigh when she finally put the instruments away.

“We can go back now,” she said, smiling wryly as Echo turned and started walking before the words were even out of her mouth. “We should have plenty of time to get back before nightfall,” Clarke called after her.

But as it happened, Clarke was wrong. And it was the two suns that did them in.

All day, she’d had no idea exactly how much daylight they might have left. There was no one sun to rise high in the sky and let them know that half their precious daylight had been used up. Instead, there were two suns, and Clarke had had some vague idea that they might meet up at some point, and that that would be “noon.”

But it never happened.

Instead, the daylight seemed to go on and on... until it didn’t.

They’d made it across the larger, gentler slope, and were just starting in on the higher, trickier hill when twilight came on with a vengeance. One minute it was full daylight, and the next it was pressing quickly toward dark.

Clarke called ahead to Echo, who had taken the lead on the return trip.

“Echo, I think we’re maybe going to have to stop for the night,” she said reluctantly. “It’s getting dark very fast.”

But Echo just kept walking, calling over her shoulder, “I can see just fine, Wanheda, and we need to get back to the ship.”

Clarke followed Echo uncertainly for a few more yards, as they climbed steadily towards the narrow path. But when a sudden fog rolled in, a misty yellow band of miasma, she knew they couldn’t go on.

“Echo, stop! It’s too dangerous!”

“Bah! I have walked far more dangerous paths than this,” Echo said, still moving quickly. “And you know we don’t have time to waste. I remember this path very well from earlier today. Just follow in my footsteps.”

 _Follow_ _in_ _her_ _footsteps?_ Between the rapidly descending dark and the weird yellow fog, Clarke could hardly see Echo, never mind her footsteps.

Echo was completely out of sight and Clarke still rooted to the spot, about to start yet another entreaty, when she heard the quick succession of sounds. The faint cry of surprise, the sliding of rocks, the crumbling of dirt.

And then the louder, more panicked cry of terror.

“Echo! What’s happened!”

Just in time, Clarke remembered the danger and stopped herself from running up the path. Instead, she crouched low and began to crawl towards Echo until at last she found the telltale spot where rocks and dirt were tumbled about. With shaking hands, she pulled off her backpack, reaching inside for her flashlight, training it downward into the darkness.

About ten feet down she found found Echo’s frightened face.

 _Thank_ _fuck_!

“Are you all right?”

“I... think I may have hurt my foot. I’m holding onto a small branch but... I don’t know how long it will hold my weight.”

“Okay. Just hang on while I work out a way to get you up.”

Echo was quiet a moment, and then Clarke heard her again. More faintly this time.

“Please hurry,” she said, and the tone was as plaintive as anything she’d ever heard out of Echo’s mouth.

Clarke sat on that mountain path, trying to slow her racing heart so that she could think, so that she could plan. So that she could figure out a way to save Echo.

When she remembered... everyone waiting for them back on the ship, her gut clenched, and she was suddenly very sure about one thing.

There was no way she was ever going to have to explain to Bellamy that she’d left the woman he loved to die on the side of a mountain.

 _No_ _way_ _in_ _hell_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so our story comes to its conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the terrific @Nell65 for her sterling work betaing this story. She always keeps me on the right path.

Heart thumping, pulse pounding, Clarke knew she had to move fast.

Before panic immobilized her.

Before Echo’s strength gave out and she tumbled down the mountain.

Before the suns finally descended and they were left in utter darkness. And on this strange and unfamiliar planet, who knew when the hell that might be?

“I’ll be right back,” she told Echo, fervently hoping she sounded like she knew exactly what she was doing. “Try to get a toehold if you can.”

Playing her flashlight before her, Clarke carefully crawled the few yards back to her pack, rooting through it quickly. When her fingers found the rope she always carried, her brain finally kicked into gear.

She knew she would have to pull Echo up; there was simply no other choice. But Echo was both bigger and heavier than Clarke, so brute strength was not going to do it.

Trying her best to keep despair at bay, Clarke focused her flashlight into the rapidly dwindling twilight, back along the path to the spot where Echo had fallen. When the light illuminated a tall, sturdy-looking tree, she felt a sudden spurt of hope.

It was a species she’d noticed earlier in the day because it was like no tree she’d ever seen on Earth. Heavy and smooth-trunked, it would be the perfect anchor for the plan she was now desperately formulating.

Clarke scrambled back up the path as fast as she dared, carrying only three items: her flashlight, the length of rope, and a pair of heavy gloves she’d found in the bottom of her pack. She turned the light on wide-beam, propping it between the branches of another, smaller tree, and directing it to illuminate the entire area.

“You doing okay down there?” she called, hoping that Echo would find her voice reassuring. “Did you find a place to anchor your feet?”

“Yes.” The reply was faint. “But I... don’t know how long I can hold on.”

“You won’t have to, Echo. I’m going to pull you up.”

“How will you do that, Wanheda? You are only one small woman.”

Clarke grinned into the darkness, much happier to hear Echo’s normal acerbic tones than her earlier fearful cry.

“Leverage,” she answered, sounding more confident than she felt. “I’m going to use the tree to help me.”

Working as fast as she dared, Clarke looped the rope twice around the tree trunk, tying off one end around her own waist. Then she made a noose-like loop at the other end of the rope, securing it with the honda knot that Bellamy had taught her years earlier when they’d been out hunting.

And then she held her breath, praying that the rope would be long enough.

“I’m throwing you a rope. Slip the loop over your head and then pull it tight it under your arms. Okay?”

She saw Echo nod in the faint illumination from her flashlight, so it was clear she understood. But when Clarke’s toss went a little wide of the mark, Echo made no move to grab onto it, instead keeping both hands firmly attached to the somewhat spindly branch that was anchoring her to the mountainside.

Shit! Clarke had counted on Echo’s normal fearless aplomb. But then _nothing_ about this situation was normal. She pulled the rope back to try again.

“Sorry about that. I’ll get it closer next time.”

When Echo nodded jerkily, Clarke thought maybe she was gearing herself up for a long grab. But it wasn’t necessary. Clarke’s aim was better this time, and Echo caught the rope easily, slipping it awkwardly over her head and shoulders and pulling the loop tight.

“I have done it, Wanheda. Now what?”

 _Now_ _came_ _the_ _hard_ _part_.

Clarke took a deep breath and told herself she could damn well do this.

“I’m going to pull you up, but even with the tree as leverage I’ll never be able to do it if you’re dead weight. You need to grab onto the side of the mountain with your hands and your feet and climb as I pull. We’ll go slow until you feel comfortable, but we can’t go too slow because it’s getting dark pretty fast.”

“I understand.”

“Good, here we go. I’ll pull and you climb.”

And pull she did, wrapping her gloved hands around the rope, and using the tree like a pulley. Whether it was determination or adrenalin, the two women worked quickly and in concert, and pretty soon Echo was halfway to the top of the cliff. Clarke began to think this might not be that difficult after all.

Later, she thought it might have been over-confidence. Or inattention. Or perhaps Echo’s foot was more severely injured than she’d thought. But whatever the reason, Clarke heard a sudden sharp yelp, and barely an instant later the slack from the rope was pulled taut, and then...

 _Thwack_!

She was slammed heavily into the smooth trunk of the unknown tree.

Gasping for breath, the wind knocked out of her, she called out uncertainly.

“Echo! What happened! Are you okay!”

The questions came in rapid succession as Clarke struggled to get her bearings, her head still ringing from the force of the impact.

When there was no immediate reply, the bile began to rise in her throat.

Until she caught a soft exclamation of disgust.

“My foot slipped. I am sorry,” came Echo’s anguished apology.

“No problem,” Clarke told her, as relief coursed through her. “We’re just going to have to start again.”

But when she pulled at the rope, there was no give, because Echo wasn’t climbing.

“Echo?”

 _Could_ _she_ _be_ _more_ _severely_ _injured_ _than_ _she’d_ _let_ _on?_

Then a quiet voice reached her out of the darkness.

“I know that must have hurt. I won’t blame you if you give up and leave me here.”

“Yeah? Well, I would blame myself. I don’t give up. And there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here. So get your ass in gear and start climbing.”

For a moment the rope remained taut, then Clarke heard movement below and felt the slack in the rope as Echo began once again to climb.

She had no sense of how long they struggled together to get Echo up that mountainside. Clarke was focused on nothing but the pull of the rope in her gloved hands and the strain on her back. Until suddenly, _miraculously_ , Echo’s arm came into view, and then her head, and finally enough of her right leg cleared the ledge that Clarke was able to grab onto it and roll her onto solid ground.

They lay there, gasping for breath and exhausted from their ordeal, until Clarke eventually noticed that night had fallen and their only light was coming from her flashlight. The one thing they didn’t need was another stumble because they couldn’t see in the dark.

“Do you think you can walk?” she ask worriedly. While she wasn’t about to leave Echo, Clarke wasn’t thrilled by the idea of a night on the edge of that mountain.

“I believe I can...uh... hobble along.”

“Good. I think I saw some caves a ways back down the path. We could take shelter there until daylight. Maybe get some sleep.”

Echo nodded, as compliant as Clarke had ever seen her.

They crawled at first, until they reached the spot where Clarke had left her backpack and the path began to widen out. But even on foot it was slow going, with Clarke helping the badly-limping Echo. But the cave she‘d remembered wasn’t far, and soon her light found the entrance.

Echo dropped onto the floor of the cave, exhausted, and stretched out as if to sleep.

“Hey, don’t get too comfortable,” Clarke said, crouching beside her. “I need to check your ankle.”

Even her gentle probings brought a gasp of pain from Echo, but Clarke didn’t think she’d broken it.

“It’s just a bad sprain. It’ll feel a little better after I wrap it.”

Clarke worked swiftly to bind Echo’s ankle, and when she’d finished she looked up to find Echo regarding her with a thoughtful expression.

“Why did you do it, Wanheda?” she asked, as though the question had been torn from her. “Why did you save me?”

Clarke’s answer was accompanied by a shrug. “You saved me, I saved you. So... we’re even now.”

Echo shook her head. “It was not at all the same thing.“

“Maybe,” Clarke acknowledged, “so let’s just say that... I did it for Bellamy.”

She heard Echo’s sharp intake of breath. “For Bellamy?”

“Yes. I couldn’t have faced him if something had happened to you. I don’t think he would have forgiven me.”

“But... there was danger to you. And I was supposed to be protecting you.”

Clarke’s smile was dry. “That’s just what’s stuck in Bellamy’s head because he’s saved me so many times in the past. But now... I’ve had to learn to take care of myself. So I don’t really need much protecting these days.”

“I am beginning to see that, Wanheda.”

Clarke fished out a couple of pain pills and handed them to Echo along with her canteen.

“You know,” she said, her expression rueful, “I sometimes wonder if you’re ever going to forget about _Wanheda_ and just call me Clarke.”

Echo shrugged. “It’s just... habit.”

“I imagine if I’d been on the Ring with you all for six years,” she mused, “you would’ve learned to call me Clarke.”

For a moment, Echo was silent. “I imagine,” she said finally, “that if you’d been on the Ring a great many things would be different.”

“Perhaps,” Clarke said, unwilling to examine that statement too closely.

But as they settled in under the thin blankets Clarke had pulled from her pack, Echo spoke again.

“Has... Bellamy not spoken with you, Wan... Clarke?”

It seemed an odd question, but she was too tired to try to puzzle it out.

“I speak to Bellamy every day,” she told Echo, as her eyes fluttered shut.

Echo sighed. “I see that he has not,” she murmured, before the pain pills kicked in and she drifted off to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

Considering Echo’s injury, Clarke knew it would be next to impossible to return to the shuttle by hiking across the ridge at the summit of the mountain. A lower alternate route would take longer, of course, and even with Clarke helping her along, Echo’s ankle would slow them down still further. All of which meant that Raven, who hadn’t heard from them since the previous afternoon, would be forced to worry for that much longer.

But there was simply no help for it.

Clarke had learned from bitter experience that safety generally trumped every other consideration when traveling through the wilderness.

As they made their way around — rather than across — the low mountain, Clarke stopped every hour or so to give Echo a rest, and to try to reach Raven on the walkie-talkie. But it wasn’t until they were more that halfway around the base that her half-hearted _Raven_ , _come_ _in_ , _Raven_ , finally produced a response.

“Clarke! Where the hell have you been! I’ve been so fucking worried!”

“Sorry, Raven. The walkie’s been out of range since yesterday. And then we had some... bad luck.”

“Oh, shit! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re both a little banged up, but nothing serious.”

“And what about the coordinates? Did you get them?”

“Yeah. It’s all good.”

“Thank god!” Raven said. “How long do you think before you can get back to the shuttle? We were supposed to be back to the ship yesterday.”

Clarke sighed, imagining everyone on the Eligius sick with worry. “We’ll do our best.”

But it was another two hours before they made it back to the shuttle, and by then Echo’s face was lined with pain and fatigue.

When she saw them, Raven scrambled out to lend a hand.

“Jesus! What the hell happened? Did the two of you decide to just duke it out or something?” she quipped, smirking, as the three of them stumbled back into the shuttle.

Clarke’s brow furrowed as she tried to catch the joke, but Echo appeared to be in no mood for Raven’s brand of humor.

“I fell off the mountain,” she told Raven succinctly. “Clarke pulled me back up.”

Raven gasped in surprise, turning to Clarke in amazement. “How the hell did you manage to do that?”

But Clarke was already strapping them both in. “Let’s go, Raven. I’ll tell you all about it on the way back.”

Raven nodded and began punching at a dozen screens at once.

“It was weird,” she mused, as they began to lift off. “When I was sitting here by myself, and I couldn’t reach the Eligius and you weren’t answering the radio, for a while there it felt like I was the only person left in the universe.”

Clarke snorted quietly. “Yeah,” she said. “I can relate.”

XXXXXXXXXX

As soon as they’d cleared the cloud cover that was blanketing the planet, Raven radioed the Eligius that they were on their way back. So it wasn’t really a surprise that everyone was waiting for them when the shuttle finally docked in the landing bay.

Well... maybe not everyone. Just the people to whom they were most dear.

And the people who were most dear to them.

If Clarke had had any questions about Raven’s relationship with Shaw, they were erased when he practically pulled her out of the shuttle and into his arms, his face wreathed in smiles of relief.

“Clarke got the coordinates,” Raven told him happily.

Shaw looked up as Clarke descended the ramp to offer her a quiet smile. “Great job,” he said.

He also seemed about to offer her a hand down, but Bellamy was suddenly there first, reaching up to clasp her hand.

“Good to have you back,” he said quietly, giving her his gentle smile.

“Happy to be back,” she acknowledged, with a small smile of her own. “And I don’t need any help, Bellamy, but Echo does. She, uh... she hurt her ankle and is having a hard time walking.”

Bellamy looked past Clarke to where Echo was still seated in the shuttle.

“You okay?” he asked her, a worried frown settling across his features.

“I am fine, but I could use a little help,” Echo answered quietly.

Clarke dropped Bellamy’s hand, figuring that this was her cue to move off. Her eyes lit on Madi, who’d been standing quietly in the background, trying to maintain the dignity of the Commander, but Clarke knew she could probably use a hug. But when she tried to slip away, Bellamy grabbed her arm, holding her in place.

“Wait! Where are you going? Don’t we need to, uh, debrief?”

Clarke shrugged. “I gave Raven the coordinates, and I’ll speak to Shaw myself, too. But it’s nothing for you to worry about right now, Bellamy. You just focus on helping Echo.”

As Clarke spoke, a dozen different emotions seemed to cross Bellamy’s face as his head swiveled back and forth between her and Echo. Then he nodded.

“Right. Of course. I’ll catch up with you later.”

As Clarke was embraced by first Madi and then her mother, both tearful with relief, out of the corner of her eye she saw Bellamy and Murphy help a limping Echo out of the shuttle and down the corridor towards the infirmary.

Just before the trio rounded a corner and moved completely out of sight, Bellamy’s head turned and he looked back at Clarke, catching her eye. Something about the expression on his face had her suddenly flushed and confused and filled with longing.

But she forced herself to remember how things were, and ruthlessly buried those feelings. And was doubly — triply — glad that she’d been able to save Echo.

XXXXXXXXXX

She couldn’t sleep.

After everything that had happened over the past few days, Clarke figured that she should be overwhelmed and exhausted. But instead she felt energized. Like she could take on the world.

Which was probably a good thing, since in a few short hours, they’d all be taking on a whole new world.

After they’d returned from the planet, and she’d passed along those hard-won coordinates to Shaw so they could make a plan for descent, Clarke had fallen into her bunk, sure that they’d have to shake her awake in the morning. But she’d only managed a few hours of sleep, and now she was wide awake, too restless and unsettled to even remain in her quarters.

She finally crept out of her room and made her way to the bridge, intent on having one last bird‘s-eye view of the place she hoped would become her home forever. The thick blanket of clouds still surrounded the planet, but now she knew what was was hidden beneath. Rolling hills and fragrant meadows. Swift-flowing streams. Strange, strong, smooth-barked trees. She’d been on the ground, seen it all with her own eyes, and it had looked to her like a fine and welcoming place. As she settled her gaze, her eagerness to be down there only grew.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Though Bellamy had spoken quietly, Clarke was still startled. She’d been so entranced by the view of her future home that she’d never even heard him enter the room.

She turned, smiling softly. “Was there some special reason you were looking for me in the middle of the night?”

He shook his head, moving across the floor until he was standing only inches away.

“No, I was just restless, and I got this idea that I wanted to talk to you. And I couldn’t shake it. When you weren’t in your room I somehow knew you’d be here.”

She shrugged. “I figured this would be my last chance at this view.”

He nodded. “It’s hard to believe it was only a few weeks ago that we stood right here and found out that things hadn’t gone exactly as planned.”

Clarke laughed. “No, not exactly. But... I think it might work out okay.”

“Me, too,” Bellamy agreed, following her gaze to the planet below.

When he didn’t say anything further, she finally turned to him, asking hesitantly, “Is this something new, Bellamy? I don’t remember you ever looking for midnight conversation before.”

Bellamy shook his head and his lips tugged up in a rueful smile. “Nope. This is definitely a one-off.”

He cleared his throat noisily.

“Echo told me what happened on that mountain, Clarke. I still can’t believe you managed to pull her up. It was such a terrible risk to take. When I think,” he took a deep breath, let it out slowly, “I might have lost you. Both of you.”

Clarke shrugged, trying to make light of her actions. “I couldn’t have faced you if anything had happened to her, Bellamy.” Her eyes flicked away from his before she asked with as much nonchalance as she could muster, “Won’t Echo be concerned if she wakes and you aren’t there?”

When he didn’t answer immediately, her eyes locked onto his once again.

But Bellamy’s look was unreadable. “Echo isn’t in my quarters, Clarke.”

Clarke felt a small jolt of surprise.

“Did Mom want to keep her in the infirmary? I didn’t think her injury was that bad.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Emori is keeping an eye on her tonight, although,” his mouth twisted into a tiny smile, “even that was under protest. Echo didn’t think she needed anyone to stay in her quarters. Said she’d be fine on her own. We had to talk her into one night of company.”

“Her quarters?” Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “But I thought... Echo isn’t sharing with you?”

“No.” He paused. “Not since we woke from the cryo.”

“What?” Her confusion grew. “Was that her idea?”

He shook his head again. “No, it was mine.”

“But... why? I thought that you and Echo...”

Bellamy’s lip curled and he gave a small sigh. “Because it wasn’t fair to her. To stay with her when I knew damn well she wasn’t the one person who was most important to me.”

Clarke felt her heart speeding up as she tried hard not to read anything into his words. Not to think they might have anything at all to do with her. And yet... she needed to _know_.

“But you were with her for all that time, Bellamy. And I know she must have been good for you when I see the kind of man you’ve become.”

Bellamy’s smile was soft.

“Echo _was_ good to me, Clarke, and I care about her a lot.  Like all of them, she helped me heal.  But we hadn’t been together in _that_ way for very long at all.”

As he explained, his expression became regretful.

“You know us Blakes. For a long time, I couldn’t even bring myself to forgive her, so I didn’t really get to know her much.  Until it finally dawned on me that forgiveness was a lot easier than holding a grudge.  After that, we became friends.  Then family.  But we didn’t become more than that until several months after we’d passed the five-year mark.  When I thought that maybe the Ring would be my life.”

Clarke tried to process his words, to reconcile them with everything she had imagined. Everything she’d been so wrong about.

“So if it wasn’t being with Echo, then... how did you figure it all out? How did you become the man who could take care of everyone on the Ring and stop a war and keep the peace and shepherd hundreds of people to a new home? How did you become _this_ Bellamy, the one I knew you always could be?”

“ _Clarke_.” Her name on his lips was like a caress.

Her breath quickened, and her mouth was suddenly dry.

“If you’re happy with who I am now,” he said quietly, “with how I’ve changed, you need to know it’s because of you. Because of what you said to me in our last conversation before praimfaya. Before everything went to shit and I had to...” he was suddenly struggling for breath, “... when I had to leave you behind.”

“I don’t blame you for that, Bellamy,” Clarke said earnestly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I never did. If you hadn’t left, you’d be dead, and... I couldn’t bear that.”

Bellamy’s eyes closed briefly, and when he opened them again, he reached up and covered her hand with his own.

“ _You_ were my inspiration, Clarke. You’d sacrificed yourself, and I was damn well gonna make sure it wasn’t for nothing. I grieved for you for so long. But even later, when the worst of it was past, I thought about you all the time, tried every day to remember what you’d told me. To listen to my heart _and_ my head. To try to do the right thing.”

Clarke smiled at him. “I thought of you every day, too, Bellamy. You asked me once what had kept me going and... so many times it was _you_. I talked to you on that crappy radio every single day,” her lips twisted in a wry smile, “even though I knew I was probably just talking to myself.”

Bellamy smiled in return, the crooked half-smile that she loved. “I know about that.”

“You do?” Clarke pulled back, wide-eyed. “Wait. Is _that_ what Madi told you? About my radio calls?”

“Hey, don’t go away,” he complained, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her just a little closer. “Yeah, Madi told me. And maybe it’s a good thing she did, because it made me think you might care about me after all. Even after everything that went down in Polis.”

Guilt tore at Clarke as she felt the wetness gather at the corners of her eyes.

“Bellamy, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice laced with regret. “I’ll never be able to explain Polis. But everything that happened...it was _never_ because I didn’t care about you. Never. I’ve always cared about you so much.”

By then, the silent tears were streaming down her face and Clarke couldn’t seem to stanch the flow. It was as if all the emotion she’d been pushing down for weeks had suddenly risen up to overwhelm her. She wondered how he could forgive her so easily when she had so much trouble forgiving herself.

Bellamy’s arms tightened around her and he pulled her fully against him, folding her into his strong embrace, stroking soft circles across her back.

“Clarke,” he said gently. “Please don’t beat yourself up about that. I know everything got all mixed up between us, but the important thing is that we made it through. And that you’re still here. And that we’re together. That’s the thing I’ve been most scared of since I found you. That you’d just... disappear. I lost you once, and I don’t think I could survive it again.”

His soft words and his strong arms were both comforting and intoxicating. She could hardly let herself believe it. Bellamy cared for her. Maybe even the same way she cared for him. When she wrapped her arms around his waist, and heard the hammering of his heart, butterflies began to dance in Clarke’s stomach.

They stood there, clinging tightly to one another, until Bellamy moved slightly, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. When he tilted his head, Clarke’s heart began to beat wildly, and when his lips finally touched hers, it felt like a thousand rockets were going off inside her.

Within moments, the world had faded away, and they forgot everything except the taste of one another’s lips, the feel of one another’s arms. Years of longing went into that kiss, as they twisted and turned, trying to strengthen their connection in ways that might not even have been possible.

The kiss became more and more heated, and for several long minutes they were totally lost to their surroundings. Until a stray sound from somewhere deep within the ship finally recalled to them exactly where they were. Bellamy pulled back with a groan to run his fingers lightly up and down her arms.

“You have no idea how much I want to just drag you back to my room, shut the fucking door, and stay there for the next two days. At a minimum,” he added, huffing in frustration.

Clerk grinned. “I think I actually _might_ have some idea. But you know damn well that we’re leaving in a couple of hours, and pretty soon people are going to be up and about and they’re all going to looking for us. And,” she added softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “I don’t want to feel rushed. Not this time. Not with you.”

Bellamy shrugged, his crooked smile rueful. “It’s okay. Right at this moment I’m so damn happy that it’s enough just knowing that you’re here with me. That somehow I got this miraculous second chance.”

“Second chance?”

He pulled her back into his ams, gently ruffling her hair.

“Up on the Ring, Clarke, when I thought you were dead, I mourned you for a long time. I mourned losing the best friend I’d ever had.”

He paused, sighing heavily.

“But I was also so fucking angry with myself for throwing away every chance we’d had to be together. I’d let everything else come between us. Octavia, the war, even my anger that you’d stayed in Polis. I kept remembering that night in the chancellor’s office, the night we made that fucking list, and then you reached out to me...”

Clarke pulled back to search his face. For years, she’d wondered about that moment, about why he’d run off. Finally convincing herself that she must have been mistaken. That he didn’t have those kinds of feelings for her after all.

“What about that night?”

He shrugged. “I thought — I was sure — that you just wanted comfort. A warm and willing body. And I knew that with you I could never just be... casually intimate. If we were going to be together like that, it would have to _mean_ something.”

Clarke was appalled.

“It was _never_ just about that, Bellamy.” She was desperate for him to understand. “You could never be just a-a _warm_ _body_ to me. It was _you_ I wanted.”

“Yeah, by the time we were ready to get on the rocket, I think I’d finally figured that out. But I didn’t say anything then, because I was so damn sure we’d have all those years to explore what we were to each other.” Bellamy sighed heavily. “But instead, you weren’t there, and all I had to live with was sadness and regret. I used lay on my bunk on the Ring, longing for what I could never have. Wishing I hadn’t been so stupid, that I’d been with you when I had the chance, but it was too fucking late.”

“Well, I’m here now, Bellamy,” Clarke told him fiercely, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. “And there’s nothing I want more than to lie in your bunk and spend hours making love to you. Then we can both toss all our regrets right into the fire.”

“Christ!” he said, pulling her back into his arms. The strangled sound he made was half-laugh, half-moan.

Clarke pulled back just enough to gaze up at him wistfully. “But I think we may have to wait a little while.”

“Yeah, I know.” His smile became sardonic. “All personal considerations will have to be put on hold while we’re exploring new worlds and saving the human race.”

“Only for right now.”

Clarke twisted in his arms until they were both, once again, staring down on the planet. “I know you can’t see it from here but it’s really beautiful down there. And this is going to be a great adventure.”

“It will be,” he agreed, his voice confident. Bellamy’s arms wrapped around her from behind and he hugged her tightly against him. “But this time, we’re going to be together right from the start. Making sure we do it the right way, like Monty wanted. Using the head and the heart.”

“The head and the heart,” she agreed, nodding.

“You know, I think we might have had this conversation before.” She could hear the smile in his voice as he murmured into her ear. “But now I have a slightly different question. This time I want to know... _what_ _does_ _your_ _heart_ _say?_ ”

Clarke wrapped her arms around herself, leaning back against Bellamy until she was fully cocooned in his embrace.

She smiled to herself, because for once she understood exactly what was in her heart.

“Same as yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you liked the story. And if you did, don’t be shy about letting me know. :)


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